


Without You I'll Never Make It Out Alive

by myheroiscurly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bodyguard Harry, Cute Family Time, Harry also gets his curls braided, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Louis in Panties, M/M, Rimming, SO MUCH FLUFF, Smut, and a lot of hospital time, and go on holidays together, but there's some heartbreak too, generally lots of smut, harry in bodyguard action, they buy each other presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 201,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheroiscurly/pseuds/myheroiscurly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a Bodyguard Harry/Football Louis AU where Louis isn't even gay at all but somehow Harry is too gorgeous with his endless legs and bouncy curls and Louis just can't resist. From there on, chaos and love ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Louis fucking Tomlinson! Open the damn door man!"  
The pounding that woke me up keeps getting louder, and with a start I realise that someone is knocking on my door. No, someone is banging against my door, to be exact. What the fuck. Groaning, I roll over in bed and my eyes fall on the clock on the bedside table. Shit, it's 11:27.  
I hastily sit up and immediately regret it when an unbearable pain shoots through my head, making me drop back onto the mattress. I shouldn't have drank that much beer last night. Or the vodka...  
"LOUIS!" The person outside my door roars and my somewhat muddy brain finally recognizes the voice. It's Tom, my manager. "I swear to god if you don't open the fucking door right now you're in deep shit!"  
"Christ, don't get your knickers in a twist tommy boy, I'm up." I yell back, my voice hoarse from the excessive amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Last night, hmm... I finally manage to stand up and make a shocking discovery: I'm not alone. And I'm completely naked. Whoopsie. It's nothing unusual for me to bring a girl home, not at all, but this time I don't have any recollection whatsoever. Last night was wild, that's all I remember. We had a phenomenal win and everyone got absolutely smashed, celebrating the victory in one of the best clubs in Manchester. I frown, staring at the blonde girl lying in my bed, still asleep despite the noise Tom and I made. She must've been hammered as well to sleep through all this. I quickly throw on a pair of sweats and rush to the door, opening it only a crack so Tom won't notice that I'm not alone. We're fighting about my behaviour on a regular basis, Tom absolutely despises my drinking, partying and excessive amount of girls I have my fun with, saying that it's not good for my health and that as a professional footballer my body has to come first. But I think there's nothing wrong with having a little fun is there? I'm young, I'm successful and pretty damn good at what I'm doing, so why not enjoy it to the fullest while I can?  
"Yeah?" I croak, rubbing my tired burning eyes with one hand while the other holds the door in place, just in case Tom tries to open it further.  
"Finally! What were you thinking Louis?" he roars and I flinch, his loud voice not making my head feel any better.  
"Jesus, Tom, shut the fuck up, my head is pounding. What do you want?" He sighs in exasperation, brows furrowed, and gives me a stern look.  
"You forgot didn't you?"  
"Forgot what?" What the hell is he talking about? Today's Sunday, nothing ever happens on Sundays. We won last night and celebrated, that all I have to remember.  
"You really did, I knew you would. The bodyguard, Louis. We're supposed to go pick your new bodyguard today." Oh, shit. Yes, he told me that. A few times, in fact.  
"Sorry, Tom. I was so focused on the game yesterday, it slipped my mind. I'll get ready now, when are we supposed to meet them?"  
"Half an hour ago." Tom sighs again, eyeing me with disappointment clear on his face.  
"Don't give me that puppy face Tom. You were the one that had to set this meeting up for the morning after the big game, you knew we'd all go out to party." He should've known that I wouldn't be approachable after such a big game, and why on earth would you have a meeting on a Sunday anyway?  
"Well, I'd be perfectly alright if you'd only party after big games. But you party all the time, Louis, and I won't have that much longer. Now get your shit together, get dressed - nicely, please - and meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes. No excuses." With that he turns around and leaves, luckily without spotting my company. I grumble some profanities under my breath and close the door, eyeing the girl in my bed with confusion. I don't remember her at all. Fuck, I don't even remember her name. Casey? Cathy? No fucking clue. Not that I care, anyway.  
I tap her shoulder and shake her awake, dull grey eyes blinking up at me. She's quite pretty, but nothing special. Boring, like most of the girls I've had lately. It's a wonder that they even get me off.  
"Hey, uhm, you have to go. I have a meeting, sorry." With that I head to the bathroom to have a shower in record time and to brush my teeth. One look in the mirror and I groan, I look like absolute hell. The long night and lack of sleep is clearly visible on my face, and I have a huge hickey on the side of my neck. Cheers. Tom won't be happy about that, but then, when is Tom ever happy about anything I do? Apart from when I score the goals that get us to win, then I'm always his best boy. Hah, fucker.  
No, Tom is great, he really is. We just disagree when it comes to my lifestyle. He says I'm childish, immature and selfish, and hell, I am all those things. But why not? It works for me, it has worked for many years. True, I felt kind of uninspired lately; the same parties, the same people, always some random girl in my bed at night, but that's just a momentary crisis. Nothing major.  
When I come back, just with a towel around my waist, blondie is already dressed in a practically nonexistent skimpy dress, killer heels in her hand. God, did she already look that cheap yesterday? Why the hell did I take her to my room? Maybe it's a good thing after all that I don't remember anything from last night.  
"Uhm, do you need the bathroom? If not, I'll have to ask you to leave, I'm kind of in a hurry." I know I'm being an arse, but that's just the way I am. I'm no bed&breakfast hotel am I? She got to fuck me, that should be about enough for her, especially considering the way she's practically drooling over my half naked body. Disgusting.  
"I take that as a no. The door is that way sweetie," I smile fakely and hold the door open for her, indicating that she really has to leave right now. She does, luckily. Not without a harsh glare and childish pout, but thankfully she leaves without throwing a fit. Good.  
I hastily get dressed, pulling some black skinny jeans up my legs and slipping on a pair of vans. Tom said to get dressed nicely so I fish a black button up and a black blazer out of my closed. The collar isn't high enough to hide the hickey, but oh well. Why not let my new bodyguard know what I'm up to right from the start? He'll know soon enough since he'll be around me most of the time. I never liked the thought of having a bodyguard, that's why Tom and I had one major fight after the other over this until I finally gave in a while ago, mainly because he threatened to kick me out of the team and I can't let that happen. Football is all I have, it's what I make my money with, it's what I love, it's what I'm good at. So I eventually agreed, on condition that I get to choose him myself. I don't want any fucking creep that takes life too seriously and stops me from having my fun. I'm thinking maybe someone my age, someone fun and easygoing that's professional enough to calm Tom but not too uptight. We'll see what we can find.  
I head downstairs to the lobby of the hotel we're staying in and immediately spot Tom, pacing back and forth on the marble floor, looking pissed off. He stills when he sees me and shoots me an icy glare. What the hell have I done now? He gave me 15 minutes and I needed 13. I'm dressed nicely, aren't I? I quickly look down on myself, checking that I didn't forget any item of clothing but nope, everything is in place.  
"I was just about to ask you about a certain blonde girl that just left the hotel, but that giant bruise on your neck tells me everything I need to know so I won't waste my breath. Why, Louis?" Oh, that's what this is about. Jeez, I really don't get why he's always throwing such a fit over me having my fair share of girls. I'm 23, I'm good looking and successful, girls want me, so why shouldn't I make use of that?  
I shrug. "Because I can, Tom. Sex is a natural part of life, nothing wrong with that."  
"Louis, people see you as a whore. That could ruin your career." I laugh out loud at that.  
"Tom, I'm a football player, not some fucking popstar. What counts are the goals that I score, it's about what I do on the field not on a night out."  
I'm met with silence and a shake of his head before he leads me out of the lobby and down some stairs to the meeting rooms.  
"Just do me one favour today, Louis. Behave, please. Don't be an arse. With the amount of fans and paparazzi that are after you lately you need a security guard, no discussion. You can choose one, but don't forget that they can also say no. So if you behave like a dick you might not get the one you wanted because they don't want you. Got it?" I nod, rolling my eyes behind his back. I love Tom, but he's always so serious. He honestly needs to lighten up a bit. And I still have a headache, I'm so not in the mood for his life lessons this morning.  
"We've got 6 guys here, all experienced bodyguards, some of the best in England. You can ask them questions, anything you want to know, but please be discreet." He stops in front of a heavy wooden door but hesitates before opening it.  
"Got it, Louis?" he asks again and I can't help but groan at his persistence.  
"Fuck, yes, I got it Tom. Don't be an arse, don't be nosy, be a good boy and pick one of them, I got it. Can we get over with this shit now?" I'm well annoyed by now, what a great mood to choose someone I'll have to spend a great deal of my life with from today on. Cheers.  
As Tom said, there are six guys in the room, some of them sitting on sofas, others standing and talking. I spot two other men in suits in the corner of the room, probably their managers. All conversations stop when we enter, and I feel eight pairs of eyes on me. I immediately straighten up and lift my head, determined to show them that despite my slim build I'm not one you can push around easily. I quickly eye them all, a challenging look in my eyes, and notice that they're all noticeably taller and broader than me. Well, what did you expect Tomlinson, my subconscious snarls at me. They're bodyguards, of course they're giants.  
"Gentlemen, please excuse our delay. We had...some other urgent matters to attend to first." Tom apologizes on my behalf because he knows full well that I don't do the entire apologising thing, I'm not that polite. He's probably right, I really am an arse, not that I care.  
"This is Mister Tomlinson. He's the one that's going to make the decisions today." Again, I feel all eyes on me and I try not to show how uneasy that makes me feel. These guys are badass, they know how to fight and kill. Being in a room with six of them is slightly unnerving.  
"Uhm, hi. So, uh, who are you all?" I mutter, my voice an embarrassingly high whine. For fucks sake, I need to get my shit together.  
One of the older guys, I'd say he's in his forties, steps forward. He's insanely muscular, his biceps probably three times as big as mine, and I immediately feel uncomfortable in his presence. He's too...big.  
"I'm Walter Keppler, Sir. Been in the business for about twenty years." Nope, too big and too formal. Not my thing at all. One after one they all introduce themselves, but I just don't feel like taking any of them. Until the last one steps forward.  
He's tall but not a giant like some of the others, probably about 1.85m. And he's not one of those bodybuilders, in fact he's rather slim compared to the others but when he crosses his arms in front of his chest I can see his biceps pop underneath the tight black dress shirt he's wearing, and for some unknown reason I feel my cheeks heat. Almost without my consent my eyes travel over his body, from the worn out heavy black boots he's wearing over his black skintight jeans, the outlines of his muscular chest that are just visible under his tight shirt, to his face, and my heart stops.  
He's young, not more than a few years older than me, and so help me, he has curls. Dark brown, silky curls that just about touch his shoulders, and striking green eyes under furrowed brows. Christ. I swallow harshly, trying to get rid of the sudden lump that formed in my throat.  
"Harry Styles", he announces in a deep raspy voice that makes my throat feel even tighter. He doesn't offer any other information about himself, and neither does he offer me his hand to shake and for some reason I feel a stab of disappointment at that. I can't help but stare at him, my mouth oddly dry when I feel his eyes glide over my body in return. They stop on the height of my neck, and when he raises one of his brows I know he spotted the hickey. Almost involuntarily I lift my hand to place it over the bruised spot, trying to hide it but it's too late. I know he saw it, and somehow the disapproving look in his eyes makes me feel like a scolded child, it makes me feel cheap. What the hell. His eyes meet mine again, and I'm stuck. I can't seem to look away, it's like I'm spellbound.  
"Okay, how about we all just have something to drink and chat so Louis can get to know you all?" Tom declares, his voice breaking the spell between Harry and I. Hmm, Harry. It's an odd name, kind of old-fashioned but somehow it suits him.  
I find myself on a couch between that Walter guy and another giant whose name I forgot as soon as he told me, pretending to listen to whatever kind of shit they're talking about while in reality my eyes keep traveling over to Harry. He's standing at the other end of the room, a glass of orange juice in his hand unlike everyone else who is drinking wine or whiskey, and I notice with surprise that his long fingers easily wrap around the entire span of the glass. His hands must be huge. Somehow, the thought warms me... Unlike everyone else he's not engaged in conversation, instead he just stands there, one hand holding his glass, the other lazily across his chest, his eyes scanning the room. They land on me and I blush, knowing that he caught me staring. Oh, fuck it, I think and stand up, taking my whiskey with me. I'm here to get to know these guys, so why not seize the chance and talk to him now that he caught me staring?  
I whisper a distracted "Excuse me, gentlemen," to the two men next to me and make my way over to Harry, again feeling everyone's eyes on me. They look at me with surprise, probably wondering why I would go talk to some loner like Harry. I haven't seen him talk to anyone today and I wonder what that's about. Maybe he's shy? But how can you be a bodyguard when you're shy, don't they have to be all tough? Maybe he just doesn't give a shit about socialising. Whatever it is, I'm about to find out. I smile when I reach him, trying not to show him that for whatever reason his proximity makes me fairly nervous.  
"Harry, you and your orange juice are all alone here, so I thought I'd keep you company. Not a big fan of socialising, eh?" I joke, giving him my best Tommo-smile that has girls swooning all over the country. But he seems unaffected and simply nods.  
"Neither am I a big fan of whiskey." He nods his head towards the glass in my hand and I chuckle nervously, his voice resonating through my body.  
"Join the club, I don't really like it either. But since everyone's drinking, why shouldn't I?"  
"So you always do what everyone else does, Mister Tomlinson?" he asks, one eyebrow cocked up.  
"Call me Louis, please. No, I usually only do what I want. Ask Tom, he can confirm that I'm a pain in the ass." I point over to my manager who is standing at the other end of the room with everybody else, deep in conversation with some guy but still watching us every now and then.  
"Okay, Louis. So it's only today that you're swimming with the stream?" He's making fun of me, I can tell by the amused sparkle in his eyes. And I hate it when people make fun of me. How dare he?  
"Damn right, because I'm in the mood for alcohol. It's not every day that you have to choose the person you're going to spend a fucking huge amount of time with, I can't do this sober."  
The only answer I get is a low chuckle, one that makes the muscles in my belly clench. Christ, what is happening to me? I must still be fucking drunk from last night, that's it. I huff and turn away from him, exasperated. How dare he mock me? Asshole.  
I saunter over to Tom, slamming my glass down on the counter as I go.  
"Louis, have you made up your mind yet?" he questions, looking at me expectantly. Again, all eyes in the room land on me, awaiting my decision, and I try not to squirm under everyone's glances. I quickly scan the room again, letting my eyes swipe over all of the guys except for one. I don't want to have to look at Harry again. He's weird with his mysterious quiet behaviour, and what's worse, he makes me feel weird. No, thanks.  
"Yes, I have Tom." And just as I'm about to tell him that he and his bodyguards can damn well fuck off I catch a pair of green eyes from across the room, and my mouth speaks before my brain can catch up.  
"I choose Harry Styles."


	2. Chapter 2

Silence.   
The room falls into absolute silence, incredulous stares switching between Harry's face and mine. Yes, I chose the loner with his orange juice, so? I squirm uncomfortably, not liking all those stares on me. I've always liked attention, hell, I need attention like I need air to breathe but having all these giants stare me down like this is slightly odd, I'm just a little boy compared to them.   
Green eyes burn into mine from across the room, one eyebrow raised questioningly and for some reason I feel a blush creep up my neck. Fuck it, Tomlinson, get your shit together. Huffing, I raise my eyebrow in return, silently daring him to say something wrong, and a lazy smirk spreads across his lips. Holy hell. Dimples! That guy with the deadly biceps has fucking dimples! He's a mass of contradictions. Curls and dimples but then those muscles and that knowing smirk...Christ, what do I make of this man? Cute and deadly. Obviously a loner. Not into alcohol. Annoying and with a smart mouth. Why the fuck did I choose him?   
"Mr. Styles?" Tom seems to regain his composure though not before sending another confused glance my way. Hell, Tom, I'm with you in this, I have no fucking clue what I just did but there is just something...something about Mister Cute And Deadly that has my brain all mushy.  
"Would you want to agree to an arrangement with Mr. Tomlinson?" Toms words send a shiver down my spine. Fuck, right. Harry can still say no.   
I watch with hypnotized eyes as Harry's incredibly long fingers tighten around the glass, and for a second I'm afraid that he's going to break it. But then his fingers relax and I let my glance wander upwards from his hands to meet his. Those green eyes seem to be blazing from the distance, pupils dilated, as they pin me down with his scrutinizing glare. I feel hypnotised, like a mouse facing a cobra. I refuse to feel intimidated by him, though, and straighten up a bit though I can't deny the goosebumps that have formed on my skin.   
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, biting it in concentration, and my mouth goes dry. Christ. Releasing his lip he runs his tongue over the indentations his teeth left, leaving his plump lip all shiny and slightly swollen. Another smirk forms on his lips, and suddenly he nods and his eyes brighten, becoming less cloudy and heavy.  
"Oh, I would indeed, Mr. Parker. If you would be so kind as to fill me in on all the details and show me the contract?" I exhale, a long deep breath that I didn't even know I was holding. So he's in, then. And so it begins, my journey with mister Cute and Deadly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harold Edward Styles.   
Harold? Oh, this is golden. Teasing material. Two very old-fashioned names, Harold and Edward. Hell, I thought Harry was awful but Harold Edward? Poor him. I chuckle quietly to myself, already thinking about all the ways I could tease him with his name and maybe make him give up on that uncanny calamity of his. 

Born February 1st, 1989, in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, England.  
Oh, so he's 26 then? That's not so bad, 3 years older than me. He seems to be quite young for his business, considering that all of the other guys in the room looked to be at least 35 or older. But scanning the list of people he's worked for and schools he's attended that is included in his folder, he must be amazing at what he does. 

He's 1.86? Holy fuck. I'm only 1.73, a curse that haunted me all my life. All my friends are taller than me, much taller, and the fact that I'm so small and fragile-looking has always been driving me crazy. Maybe that's why I'm always loud, to make sure that people don't overlook me. Tom always goes into a deep psychological analysis about that but I think it's ridiculous, I am who I am and I just like being loud and energetic. 

Hm, interesting. He went to Cambridge University and studied Politics and Economics for two years before he suddenly dropped out. So he's not just fucking gorgeous but also a smartass? Great. What have you gotten yourself into, Tomlinson? This man will be the death of me, I know that already. A deep sigh escapes my lips, causing Harry's head to snap up from where he's going through the contract with Tom at the other end of the long table. I'm not listening, I told Tom from the very beginning that he has to deal with the legal formalities of this entire thing. It was his idea, he basically forced me to get a bodyguard so now he can discuss it with him, not me. So instead of listening to what the two men are greeting on I decided to go through Harry's folder to keep myself busy. All this legal stuff is always boring me and I know Tom will brief me anyway once it's all settled.  
I'm met with a pair of green eyes, sending a confused glance my way. I guess he's asking if I'm okay so I give him a small smile and go back to reading through his career. I think I feel his eyes on me a bit longer but I don't look up to check if I'm right. This man confuses me already. He'll be around all the time, watching over me, probably keeping me from doing what I love. I like to party, I like to have my fair share of girls and alcohol and for some reason I doubt that Harry Styles will be very happy about that. To hell with it, I'm not going to change for him. It's going to be his job to make sure that I don't get murdered or anything, not to see who I'm sharing the bed with.   
Chairs screech across the wooden floor, shaking me out of my reverie. Looking up I realise that Harry and Tom are standing and shaking hands, Tom looking pleased and Harry's face gives nothing away. I suspect that's his usual expression, how boring. Looks like they've come to an agreement. Walking over to them I loudly drop the folder onto the table, not liking how they're both exchanging pleasantries while completely ignoring me. Yes, I didn't want to know about the contract but that doesn't mean that they have to treat me like I'm air now. Clearing my throat I'm met with an annoyed glare from Tom - he knows oh too well about my attention games - and a perplexed one from Harry. Yeah, you still have a lot to learn about me Styles. And you're probably going to regret saying yes to this soon. Maybe that's a good plan, maybe if I annoy Harry so much that he backs out of this I can convince Tom that bodyguards and me just aren't compatible and that I'm better off on my own? Hm, that thought definitely deserves further investigation.  
"Come to an agreement gentlemen?" I ask, my voice slightly mocking.  
"Shut it, Louis. See, Mr Styles, he's quite a handful. But I'm sure you'll be able to deal with him." Me, a handful? Damn right. But why not? I'm young, I'm successful, I'm good at what I'm doing so why not enjoy it?  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll find a way Mr. Parker." And there it is again, that knowing smirk plastered across his face. Seems like that's the only two expressions Harry Styles has, impassive or smirking.   
They shake hands, and then Harry turns to me.  
"Mr. Tomlinson. It was a pleasure to meet you today." Geez, so formal Styles?   
"Call me Louis, please. I'm not that old."   
"I know. Louis, okay." Hmm, I like the way my name rolls of his tongue. Oh, that tongue... The memory of him licking his lips earlier comes back to my mind and I feel heat creeping up my spine. Desperately searching for a distraction I jump at the first idea that comes to my mind.  
"You know? How so?" Maybe he read a folder of me just like I did about him?  
"Of course I did my research. I don't ever agree to meet up with people without knowing the first thing about them." Oh, you think you have it all figured out don't you Styles?   
"Research? Interesting. What sites did you have a look at? The media is not always entirely believable and trustworthy, Mr. Styles." I inform him, earning a small chuckle.  
"Why, Mr. Tomlinson, I've had my fair share of contact with the media so I know where to look for things online. And you have a Wikipedia page." he states wryly, his head slightly cocked to the side, causing a few curls to fall over his face. He pushes them back quickly, an annoyed frown on his face when they fall right back.   
"Wikipedia, eh? The schoolboy's best friend?" I mumble distractedly, still watching his hair. I never thought long hair was attractive on guys, but somehow he pulls it off. Hell, I never thought guys were attractive! What is wrong with me?  
"Aren't we all schoolboys, Louis?" he smirks, then quickly regains his impassive face as he turns to Tom once more who watches us with an amused yet confused expression.  
"I should get going, leave you two to discussing the rest. And I also have a few things to take care of. Thank you for having me here." Things to take care of? No doubt he's craving another glass of orange juice at home.  
"You're welcome Mr. Styles. Have a good day."   
"Louis?" Harry holds his hand out to me, and I realise with a start that I'm going to touch him for the first time. My mouth goes dry. It's just a fucking handshake, Louis. For gods sake get your shit together!  
So I take his offered hands and feel his long fingers wrap around my much smaller ones. His hand is warm, so warm with soft skin and a strong but not uncomfortable grip. I gasp and weakly shake his hand in return, unable to look into his eyes. When I finally do, I notice that his eyes are darker again, a deep shade of green. Odd.  
"Harry," I manage to croak in return and then he releases my hand, slips his black coat on, and then he's gone. The door of the meeting room we're in falls shut behind him and I feel weirdly bereft.   
"Louis? You happy?" Tom asks carefully, and a tiny part of me just wants to scream 'HELL YES' at the top of my lungs but I don't. Instead I shrug and nod, hoping to appear nonchalant.   
"He doesn't seem too bad."   
"No, he's not too bad. Young, but one of the best. Brilliant reputation and a bright man. Not bad looking either, eh?" Tom elbows me, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.   
"Oh, shut it Tom. Do I need to show you this," I pull down the collar of my shirt a bit to reveal the now fading hickey, "to remind you that I'm very much into boobs and and something I can stick my dick into?"   
"Oh Louis, no need to be obscene, I'm just saying. And guys have a hole, too, you know?" He laughs loudly at my annoyed groan. Tom's married to a lovely girl and has a little daughter, why the hell does he start with this gay talk now?   
"You're an arsehole Tom Parker. Now stop with this ridiculous shit and tell me what you agreed on with Mister Orange Juice." Cute And Deadly fits so much better but after what Tom just said there's no way I'll let that nickname slip, he'll only think that I think Harry is cute as in I'm into him which I'm not. Yes, he's good looking, there's no denying it. Even as an in fact straight guy I can admit that he's hot. So? Just because he's hot doesn't mean he's my type. He's got a dick, after all. And so do I. Not my style. Guys have a hole, too. Oh, screw Tom and his annoyingly wise words because now I can't stop wondering if Harry is seeing someone, if he's straight or gay, and if it's the latter if he's topping or...

Half an hour later I push the door to my suite open, my head cloudy and spinning. It's official, Harry Styles aka Mister Cute and Deadly, the guy with long curls and dimples that drinks orange juice instead of whiskey is now my bodyguard. Tom made me sign the last papers earlier, and now my signature rests next to Harry's on several pages. I feel oddly caged and restricted but at the same time almost bubbly, it's so confusing. Harry is going to be with me for all official evens such as football games, official banquets, celebrations and traveling. And I can request that he comes with me if I want to go out by myself, though I know that that's something I'll never do. Why would I want him and his impassive face with me? No, I'm quite happy that Tom didn't insist on him being with me 24/7, that would be too suffocating. I need my freedom.  
Sighing I sit down on the bed and throw my copy of the contact onto the pillows next to me, eyeing it like it's a poisonous snake. So many restrictions, so many possibilities. But I can't deal with this right now, I need some time before thinking it through. So I head for the bathroom to take a long hot shower and call room service for dinner. Only when a young girl in uniform comes back to pick up the now empty tray is it that I have the mind to look through the paperwork again. I read through it again, page after page, and when I come to the last page I nearly drop the entire stack of papers in my hand.   
Harry's contact details, his email address, home address, his phone number. I wonder if this means that he has mine, too?   
Hmm, his phone number. This has possibilities. Before I can fully think it through my hands grab my phone and save the number then quickly toss the phone aside before I can do anything stupid.  
I busy myself with watching mindless TV but I just can't focus on it. It's not even 10 in the evening and I'm not tired at all, so bed is no option either. But I can't just spend the evening pretending to watch TV while in reality my eyes keep wandering to my phone. Sighing deeply I get up and walk over to my suitcase. I quickly pull out a pair of jeans, my favourite, skintight black ones, and a low-cut tshirt before throwing on a jacket and slipping on my vans. I call the reception and tell them to get me a cab that can take me to a club in Manchester, there's enough of them here. I need to go out. Dance, drink, have some fun, forget about this contract and my new bodyguard, whose green eyes somehow seem to be haunting my mind.


	3. Chapter 3

The alcohol is singing in my veins, making my head spin like before but this is a different kind of spinning. I like this. My thoughts are blurred and messy, nothing makes sense. I just let go, feel the bass pumping through my body, the music in my ear, and I feel good. I can see a few girls eyeing me from across the room and wave at them, but I don't walk over like I usually would. I'm not in the mood for a one night stand tonight. I'd much rather just get absolutely shitfaced and fall into a deep, untroubled sleep.   
I clutch the glass to my chest, afraid that my shaky fingers will drop it. I can't drop it, I have to drink it. It's some vodka mix, amazingly delicious and incredibly high proof. Exactly what I need. I take another large gulp and lean against the bar for support because my knees are starting to get too weak. When I look to my left, a very busty brunette is smiling at me, basically pushing her cleavage into my face. Oh, hello there. I drunkenly blink up at her, she's a bit taller than me in her killer heels.   
"Louis?", she yells over the loud music, a suggestive smirk on her face. I dumbly wonder why she knows who I am. But oh, right, I have a Wikipedia page. The thought makes me giggle.   
"I don't live too far from here, would you want to come over for a bit?" Not wasting any time are we? I swallow, then shake my head. I'm a bit surprised by myself, normally I wouldn't say no to someone as hot as her, but before my drunken mind can catch up my mouth decides to speak.  
"Nope, not interested. You don't have green eyes. I only like green eyes. Like the forest." What the fuck? Did I really just say that? Christ, this man haunts me. I need to get out. Away from brunettes cleavage and her dull grey eyes that only make me think about green ones. Fuck, I'm too drunk. Gulping down the rest of my drink I slam the glass down on the counter and stumble towards the doors and out to the street. I stumble up the pavement for a few feet until I'm all by myself before leaning against a fence for support. Standing has become too difficult.  
My phone vibrates, it's Tom. He calls me, the third call in a row. I know it's not wise for me to speak to him like this, but he's obviously worried and pissed off - the very long text message he sent me proves as much - so I should at least text him that I'm okay. After several minutes of concentration I manage an "am fine Domt worrybout mee" and send it to him. He's used to texts like these, he always gets one when I'm out and about without him knowing. I have no clue how he even found out that I'm gone, he probably came to my room and checked on me, suffocating control freak that he is. Talking about suffocating... An idea comes to my hazy mind and before I know it I press my finger down on the screen. 'Mr. Cute and Deadly' flashes on the screen and I smile widely before pressing the phone to my ear. It rings, once, twice, before the phone is picked up.  
"Louis?" his voice is sleepy and raspy, a lot deeper than it was this afternoon, I didn't think that was possible. Holy hell. And he knows it's me, that means he must have my number saved. Somehow the thought makes me smile.   
"Harryyyy. 'M sorry, did I wake you up?" I slur, realizing that it's two in the morning.   
"No, you didn't. Are you drunk?" he demands to know, his voice wide awake now.  
"Maybe, maybe not. You will never know." I grin to myself, proud of my answer. There you go, Styles. You're a mystery to me, now I'm giving you a riddle in return.   
"Louis, where are you?" he presses, and I shake my head even though he can't see it.  
"Somewhere you're not." I hear his exasperated sigh and reluctantly add "at a club."   
"Louis Tomlinson, so help me. Where. Are. You.?"   
"Oh, don't be so negative, Styles. 'M fine."   
"Are you still in Manchester? I'll find you. Don't leave on your own Louis. What's the name of the club?" He growls, sounding almost angry and I feel my good mood evaporate and turn into what feels like guilt. Why do I suddenly feel guilty for going out and having fun?   
"I don't know..." I mumble, trying to remember the name of the club but there's just emptiness in my head. Harry sighs at the other end of the line.  
"Okay. Get some water. Stay outside, you need fresh air. And don't leave on your own, do you hear me? I'll be with you soon." With that he hangs up and I frown. He's so demanding. But for some reason I do as he says. I don't get any water because that means I'd have to go back inside and walking is not really an option for me right now, but I stay outside, leaning against the fence, and wait. He gets out of bed at two in the morning to get me, now I really do feel guilty. It's so irrational, Tom lectured me a million times and it never bothered me. But a few disappointed words from Harry Styles, a guy I just met a day ago, and I feel like a disobedient child.   
I don't know for how long I wait but I'm starting to get cold. It's early summer and quite warm but I forgot to bring my jacket outside so I'm standing here in just a t shirt that barely keeps me warm.   
Headlights appear in the distance and stop about a hundred metres away from me. I can see a tall guy in a coat getting out of it, slamming the door shut behind him, and my heart jumps in my chest. It's him.   
I hastily stumble towards the car, nearly falling over my own feet in the silly excitement that rushes through me. He didn't see me yet as he's scanning the area in front of the club, his brow furrowed, his lips set in a grim line. Oh, he's angry. Crap.  
He spots me the second I reach his car, and his features soften as relief washes over them. Oh.  
"Louis? Oh, finally." he breathes then runs a hand through his curls. "Are you ok?"   
He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him, making me stumble against him. Oh, he smells good.   
I manage a nod and peek up at him, hoping that he isn't too angry. I don't want to make him angry.   
"Are you angry with me?" I dare to ask, my voice small and words slurred. His face softens another fraction.  
"No, Louis, I'm not. I was just worried. Let's get you home." He was worried, about me? I wrap my arms around myself with glee and smile, a broad grin that takes over my entire face. Placing a hand on my back he leads me to the passenger side then flinches.  
"Fuck you're freezing. Did you not bring a jacket?" he questions, looking down at me in disapproval.  
"Yes I did. It's still inside..." He sighs, then nod and pushes me against the door so I can lean on the car for support.   
"Stay here, don't move. I'll get your jacket. What does it look like?" Shit, what jacket did I have with me? I desperately wreck my brain. "Uhm...a jean jacket, yes!" I breathe, thankfully remembering that I threw it on earlier tonight.   
"Okay, I'll get it. Don't move." he emphasizes and I roll my eyes in exasperation.  
"Geez, Styles, keep your hair on will you? I'm not going anywhere, it's not like I can walk anyway."   
He eyes me levelly before turning around and marching into the club. I watch as his broad shoulders disappear through the entrance, and suddenly I'm dead beat. Leaning my head against the door of his range rover I close my eyes, hoping to stop the spinning of my head for a while. A hand on my shoulder startles me out of my doze and my eyes snap open, expecting to meet green ones but they don't. Instead I blink into a pair of brown ones. I blink in confusion and looking around me, I realise that I'm surrounded by three guys, all much taller than me. Crap.  
"Can I help you?" I manage to slur and try to straighten up a bit without falling over.  
"Louis Tomlinson? The footballer?" one of them asks. He's tall, not quite as tall as Harry but he's still towering over me but I refuse to show that I'm intimidated. Harry. Where is he? Why does he need so long to get a simple jacket?   
"That's me," I nod and see them grin at each other. Shit. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut and denied that it's me, I should've told them that it's a mixup but of course my drunk brain couldn't come up with that plan in time.  
"Well, in that case..." before I can even process what's happening, the guy to my left steps forward and wraps his arm around my torso, leaning against me to trap me between him and the car. Shit. He flips me around so my front is pressed against the car and laughs when I weakly try to push him away. It's no use, even sober I'd stand zero chance against him. I'm well trained, yes, but I'm just so small. Then I feel one of the other two guys groping my bum, and for a horrible second I think that they're going to rape me. But then it occurs to me that my wallet is in my back pocket; they're not after me, they want my money. I want to scream, scream for help, scream for Harry but I can't, I'm choked up. My brain is too messed up from all the alcohol, I'm too weak, so I surrender. I lean my head against the cold car and try to force back the tears that are starting to form in my eyes. If I'm going down, then at least without giving them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.   
And then the arm that has been holding me in place is ripped away so suddenly that I nearly fall to the ground. Looking up I see a pair of broad shoulders in front of me and one of the three guys, the one that's been holding me, is lying on the floor, clutching his arm to his chest. The other two stare at the man in front of me, pure shock on their faces.  
"Get the fuck away from him. If I ever see any of you near Mr. Tomlinson again I will end you, all three of you. Now take your scum of a friend and leave before I forget myself." I can't see Harry's face but I have a very good image in my head of what it must look like; blazing green eyes, furrowed brows, his lips set in a scowl. I know that his words aren't directed at me but I still can't help the shiver that runs down my spine; he really does sound deadly. His voice is so calm, so eerily collected that there is no doubt that he means every word he says. The other guys seem to get to that conclusion as well; they hastily pick up their friend and run, run as fast as their legs can carry them. I almost want to laugh if it wasn't for me being alone with Harry now. He must be mad. I mean, I drunkenly called him at two in the morning and now this? I bet he planned his night a bit differently.   
He turns slowly and I hold my breath, anxious to see the look in his eyes. I don't want him to be mad at me.   
"Louis? Are you okay?" his voice is soft, wary but soft. And so is his face. He eyes me, head to toe, looking for any injuries and clearly relaxes when he can't find any. But still there is a frown on his face, a frown that I don't like.   
"Yes, I am. They didn't hurt me."  
"Good." he sounds relieved. Thank god he's not mad. "I got your jacket, sorry it took so long, the girl in the cloakroom was incredibly incompetent. If I had just been a bit faster, I could've prevented it all. I'm sorry." He's sorry? I look at him in surprise, unsure what to say. Why is he sorry?   
"No, Harry, don't be. You were here in time. If anything I should be sorry, for calling you and getting drunk and causing you so much trouble." My thoughts are clearer now, the adrenaline from the encounter with the robbers is still pumping through my veins, sobering me up a little.   
"But still. If I had just been a bit later... God knows what they would've done to you." He shudders, clearly appalled, a dreadful look on his face. Why is he so hard on himself?   
Without giving me a chance to reply he slips my jacket around my shoulders and opens the passenger door, then pushes me inside. Leaning over me he fastens my seatbelt for me, and I stop breathing. Oh my. He's so close, I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. And he smells heavenly, of cologne, shampoo and washing powder, it's intoxicating. Far more intoxicating than the alcohol I consumed today, and my head starts spinning again.   
He leans away, miraculously managing not to touch me while strapping me in and I feel a sting of disappointment run through me, it confuses me massively. The things this man does to me...  
I watch as he jogs around the car to his side, noticing once again that he's literally all legs and toned muscles, and suddenly swallowing becomes a lot harder. Then he's in the car, and his scent slowly fills the small space between us as he maneuvers through nocturnal Manchester. I watch his profile, seeing the way he's nibbling on his lower lip, that frown still on his face and suddenly all I want is to erase it, to make him smile. So when I spot an empty bottle of orange juice in the glove box, I smirk as my still intoxicated mind comes up with a plan.  
"So you were drinking orange juice? I knew it!"  
"What?" He looks over at me for a second, puzzled.  
"When you left, you said you had things to do. I thought you just wanted orange juice, I was riiiiight. I think you're an orange juice addict, Mr. Styles." I giggle, incredibly amused by this and incredibly proud when a small smile tugs at his lips, replacing the frown. Mission accomplished.   
"And I think you're drunk, Mr. Tomlinson."   
"Yes, I am." I exclaim proudly, my grin still on my face. Harry shakes his head in mock exasperation but I can tell that he, too, is amused. A loud yawn escapes from my mouth and I quickly slap my hand over it, slightly embarrassed.   
"You look beat, Louis. I'll get you to your hotel as fast as possible so you can sleep." I nod sleepily, the lack of sleep from last night and the alcohol in my blood catching up with me. Leaning my head against the window I close my eyes, letting his scent and the soft music from the radio lull me in. Feeling incredibly safe, I fall into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm hot, too hot. Blinking sleepily I lift my head and glance around the room. I'm wrapped up tightly in the blankets, a position that I normally never sleep in, especially not in the summer. Odd.  
Harry! Shit. It all comes rushing back to me. Meeting him, signing the contract, going out to the club, calling him, the thankfully unsuccessful robbing incident...how did I get here? I don't remember coming home to my hotel room last night, I must've passed out in his car.  
Groaning I hide my head in the pillow, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment. What a great first impression he must have of me. I kick the blanket off of me, sighing in relief when the cool morning air hits my overheated skin.   
Wait. Skin? Sitting up I glance down at myself in horror. I'm naked. Well, not quite, I'm still wearing my boxers but that's it. I didn't undress myself yesterday, I'm very certain of that. I now remember everything that happened last night very clearly, but after I got in his car and we bantered for a bit it all turns to blackness. I must've passed out, there's no way I undressed myself. Holy fuck, Harry Styles undressed me. I'm shocked. Shocked by his boldness, surely it's not in his job description to undress his boss when he's drunk and passed out. But at the same time I can't help but smile slightly, knowing that he touched me, that his hands peeled off my shirt and pants... Oh how I wish I had been conscious.   
Fuck, Tomlinson, stop this. Seriously, these thoughts have to stop. I can't think about Harry's hands on me, on my chest, sliding down my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake... I am in fact straight.   
With new determination I throw the covers off me completely and stand up, staggering a bit. Walking around the bed towards the bathroom I spot a glass of water on the nightstand, some painkillers lying next to it. Wow, he really does think of everything. I'm impressed. And the way my head feels now I'm immensely grateful for the pills so I swallow them and gulp down the water in a few large mouthfuls. When I set the glass down I spot a note lying next to the painkillers that I hadn't seen before, and my heart is in my throat. He wrote me a note? Help.  
I take a moment to admire the simple yet elegant handwriting then focus on what he actually wrote, and my heart starts beating rapidly in my chest. 

Louis,   
I hope you're not feeling too unwell this morning? If you are, take the painkillers and drink enough water. You should also eat properly, I ordered room service to bring you a selection of the breakfast menu at 11 as I didn't know what you like in the morning.   
Have a good day, try not to get drunk and robbed for a change.   
Mr. Cute and Deadly

Oh, so formal. I roll my eyes, but in a good way. And he ordered me breakfast? Holy hell. This is perfect. I don't think I ever felt so looked-after in my entire life, and I've only known this guy for a day. Yet the warm feelings bubbling in my chest make it feel like much longer.  
Fuck, that signature. How the hell does he know about my nickname for him? I never once mentioned it, did I? No, I wouldn't do that, drunk or sober, it's far too embarrassing. So how the hell does he know?   
Grabbing my phone I immediately text him, I need to know how he found out about the nickname. Is he a mindreader or something?   
__________________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly 10:26  
How the hell do you know about that nickname?  
__________________________________________________

After a second I realise that this probably sounds harsh and ungrateful so I quickly type another message.   
__________________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:27   
Oh, and thanks for the painkillers and water. And breakfast. And for bringing me home. And for saving me yesterday. The list is endless.  
PS: did you undress me???   
__________________________________________________

I head for the bathroom while I wait for his answer, my bladder begging for some release after all the alcohol I drank last night. When I'm done I sit back down on the bed, knowing that I should probably start packing because I'll be returning to London later today but I can't find any motivation right now. So I just lounge around on the bed in nothing but my boxers, just like Harry left me, and wait for the painkillers - that Harry gave me - to kick in. Oh, and of course I check my phone every 10 seconds, waiting for a reply from Harry, but nobody needs to know that.   
When it finally buzzes, signaling that I got a new text message, I grab it so quickly that my eager hands nearly drop it.

__________________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:35  
Good morning Louis, how are you feeling? You don't need to thank me, I'm just doing my job. I'm glad I was there to help you.   
I saw my name in your contacts when your phone fell out of your pocket last night and opened the call log.  
And yes, I did.  
__________________________________________________

Yes, he did. Holy fuck, now I'm certain, Harry Styles undressed me while I was unconscious. I don't know if I should be appalled or amused. I decide to go for amused and smile to myself before hastily typing my reply.

__________________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:39  
I'm feeling better than I deserve now that I took the painkillers. How are you feeling? I stopped you from having a good night's sleep, hope you're not too tired?  
I still feel like I have to thank you, I don't think ordering breakfast and putting drunk people to bed is part of your job description. And you don't officially start as my bodyguard until Monday. Yesterday was Saturday.   
Neither do I think undressing passed out people is part of your job description. But I'm not complaining, the jeans I wore were very tight, sleeping in them would've been very uncomfortable.   
What do you think of the nickname? I think it's very fitting ;-)  
__________________________________________________

My finger hovers over the send button, not pressing it yet. If I answer too quickly he'll think that I'm doing nothing but waiting for his reply, which, frankly, is exactly what I'm doing but he doesn't need to know that. I don't even know why I'm doing it but I can't help it.  
So I wait a few minutes, just for good measure, before I send it and then wait for his answer, nervously biting my bottom lip. How is he going to react? What did he think about the nickname? Especially the 'cute' part. God, this is so embarrassing, how the hell am I supposed to talk my way out of this? Maybe I should tell him that Tom came up with him? But no, I can't do that to Tom. And what if Harry talks to Tom about it, then I'd probably jump off a cliff in embarrassment.   
My phone vibrates and lights up with another text from Harry.

__________________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:47  
I'm alright, I can function on a minimum amount of sleep. All part of the job description. ;-)   
Consider my forthcoming ways as a premature favour. And yes, they were tight.  
Fitting? For the record, Mr. Tomlinson, I don't think I am cute. I'd rather consider myself manly.  
__________________________________________________

Manly? I laugh out loud at that. Yes, he is. But he's also cute. He has dimples, for fucks sake! And curls. Definitely cute.  
And holy fuck, he noticed my tight jeans? Does that mean that he was looking at me? Somehow the thought makes my cheeks heat. Hmm...  
A broad smile takes over my face, this text banter with Harry is just too much fun. This time I don't give two fucks about answering too quickly, who cares if Harry knows that I'm desperately waiting for his answers? He was checking me out for heavens sake!

__________________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:49  
That sounds like one hell of a job description. How many pages is it?  
You have dimples. Everyone with dimples is cute.  
Were you checking me out Mr. Styles???  
__________________________________________________

I send it and then anxiously wait for his reply. It comes much quicker now. 

__________________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:52  
It is only about 7 sentences. Seven very long sentences. You'd be surprised to see how many words you can fit into 7 sentences.  
No, I wasn't. But I had the delight of peeling them off of you last night.  
Were you checking me out???  
PS: your breakfast should be here shortly, make sure to put some clothes on. Wouldn't want to scare the poor people from room service would we?  
__________________________________________________

Was I? No, I wasn't. Yes, I was. Shit, room service! They're due in a few minutes. I hastily jump up from the bed and pull some sweatpants on, followed by a shirt. Once I'm dressed I sit back down on the bed and grab my phone to read his text message again before replying.

__________________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute And Deadly, 10:57  
Thanks for reminding me, I'm now dressed.  
I think I'd like to read these infamous 7 sentences one day.  
Delight??  
And no, I wasn't.  
__________________________________________________

I decide to throw his own words back at him without giving any further explanation. Because what can I say in my defense? You just notice people's dimples, yes, but still I can't deny that I was looking. Closely. A lot of the time.  
My phone vibrates but before I can read Harry's text message there's a knock at my door, room service. The same girl that brought me dinner last night now pushes a trolley into my room. After explaining how everything works she leaves, and I stare at the excessive amount of food with my mouth wide open. They've gone all out. There's bacon, pancakes, eggs, fruit, granola, toast, everything you could possibly wish for. How much did Harry order?

__________________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 11:02   
Good boy.  
I think I can print them out for you if you'd like, they're really very entertaining. A classic in English literature.  
__________________________________________________

The fact that he doesn't reply to the 'delight' question doesn't go unnoticed by me, and I think that means more than words could say. Smirking I spread some maple syrup over a pancake and roll it together before stuffing it into my mouth. Then an idea comes to my mind and I snap a picture of the gigantic breakfast buffet on my table before adding it to my next message to Harry.

__________________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute and Deadly, 11:13  
Breakfast is here. How much did you order??? This is enough to feed an entire army.  
And yes, I'd like that very much. Maybe you could bring it tomorrow so there's not going to be any confusion about your job description anymore ;-) I still can't believe you undressed me.  
__________________________________________________

Tomorrow. The thought fills me with joy. It's Harry's first official day as my bodyguard. Nothing special's going to happen, I have training in the afternoon that he will attend with me and that's it. But still it means that I'll get to see him again and for some stupid reason I can't stop smiling like a child on Christmas.

__________________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 11:15  
I'll leave you to your breakfast then, I've got things to take care of.  
I told them to bring you a bit of everything as I don't know what you like in the morning.  
And Louis, I can disarm a bomb without looking, undressing a man without looking proves to be no difficulty for me.  
__________________________________________________

So instead of just making a lucky guess and ordering one thing in the hopes that I'll like it, he ordered everything? There it is again, this warm feeling bubbling through my chest, followed by a stab of disappointment because our SMS banter is over. But luckily I'll see him tomorrow. 

__________________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 11:17  
More orange juice drinking?   
I like pancakes. And waffles. Or just toast. The unhealthier the better.   
__________________________________________________

It's true, I'm not eating very healthily. Pizza, kebab, burgers, all that jazz. Tom continuously tries to get me to eat more fruits and vegetables, saying that it will increase my fitness and health but I think I do enough running durning training, I'm allowed to eat all the shit I want without him giving me a hard time about it. And so far it's working perfectly, I have a fit body. I'm not overly muscular but I have defined thighs, thanks to all the running, and a flat torso and that's about all you can ask for I think. I don't want to run around like a bodybuilder, that's not my thing.  
My phone vibrates one last time, startling me out of my thoughts.

__________________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 11:21  
Exactly. x   
__________________________________________________

The broad smile on my face never once falters during breakfast and even when I take a long shower to wash off the night out I'm still in an incredibly good mood, humming and whistling quietly.   
So when Tom knocks on my door at around 1 in the afternoon and I open the door with a swift "hello there, Tom!" I'm met with a sceptic glare.  
"What the hell got you so happy Tommo? Usually you're a pain in the ass after a night out, even more so than normally."  
What got me happy? Oh nothing, just a bit of SMS banter with a certain new bodyguard. After he saved me from getting robbed. And then undressed me down to my boxers. And ordered breakfast for me. But of course I can't tell Tom so I just shrug in an attempt at nonchalance.  
"I'm just in a good mood, is that so wrong?" I ask making innocently big eyes.   
"No, of course not," Tom admits, still slightly bemused. "Had a good night last night?" He questions with bitterness in his voice.   
"I did indeed." I don't offer any other kind of information, I don't necessarily want Tom to know about what happened, he'd only freak out. If Harry tells him then fine, I'll have to deal with that, but I just hope he's discreet enough to keep it our little secret.   
"Okay then. Just wanted to see how you are and remind you that we're traveling back to London at 3:30, just in case that you forgot."   
"I didn't actually, not this time. I'll be there. Meeting in the lobby?" I ask, smiling proudly because I already have most of my bags packed.   
Tom nods. "Yes, and please be on time. The others are not going to be pleased if they have to wait for you again."  
"I got it, Tom. Lobby, 3:30. I'll be there." Before Tom closes the door behind him he sticks his head into the room again, a smirk on his face. "Oh, and Harry is traveling with us, just thought I'd let you know." Then he's gone, leaving me with my jaw practically on the floor. What? Harry is coming with us?

I couldn't quite shake the nervous excitement that got me all bubbly the entire afternoon, and if I'm in the lobby not just on time but actually ten minutes early then it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that Harry will be here.   
As predicted, when I step out of the elevator he is already there, a small black duffle bag in front of him. I knew he'd be here already, he's just the kind of guy that screams 'always early and in ironed clothes'. He stands by himself, a few feet away from where a few other people from my team have already gathered, and looks around the room warily, his sharp green eyes not missing anything. So it doesn't take long until he spots me standing by the elevator, and when he does he smiles a little and raises a hand in greeting. Then his eyes travel over my body, taking me in, and I can tell that he's having difficulties suppressing a smirk when he notices what pants I'm wearing. The tight black ones from yesterday, the ones that he took off me with so much delight. I answer with a knowing smirk of my own before walking over to my teammates, greeting them shortly and dropping off my bags next to theirs. It's only then that I walk over to Harry, slightly nervous and unsure how to react. We've texted a lot, yes, and frankly there were quite some suggestive lines here and there but I've only known him for two days so I'm at a total loss.   
"Louis", he nods at me, back to his distant and polite self. Dammit, I don't like this reserved and distant Harry too much. I prefer him in the teasing and fun mood.  
"Harry." I mock his tone, calm and collected, and chuckle quietly when his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.   
"Interesting choice of pants, Mr. Tomlinson." I blush a scarlet red, causing that now infamous Harry Styles smirk to reappear.  
"Don't know what you're talking about." I feign innocence, peeking up at him through my lashes and his smirk shifts, becoming softer before he puts his impassive bodyguard mask back on.  
"What are you doing here anyway? Did you decide to join the football team?" I ask, genuinely interested why he's here.  
"No, I have to get back to London anyway to start working for you tomorrow, so instead of taking the train Mr. Parker explained that you have space on the team bus and offered me to come along. Easier for me than buying a train ticket."   
"So you actually live in London, not Manchester?" He nods in agreement, his eyes still scanning the room every now and then. I guess it's a bodyguard thing.  
"Where exactly?"   
"In the east. Canary Wharf area." That's not too bad, it's an alright area. Though looking at him, I suppose he can take care of himself in whatever kind of area he's in. No need to worry about him. Not that I do, but still.  
Before I can reply, though, Tom arrives and announces that since everybody is there - yes, I get a few glances from my teammates that I meet with an annoyed glare - we can actually get on the bus and head home, so everyone heads for the door. Once all the bags are packed away we head inside. I'm the last one to get on the bus for one reason and one reason alone: I want to sit next to Harry without being too obvious. I know that he's going to sit by himself, not next to someone he doesn't know, so I can just slide in next to him. And when I enter the bus I see that I'm right, Harry is sitting by himself in the back of the bus, staring out of the window. He looks over at me with a small smile when I sink into the seat next to him.  
"The bus driver said it's going to take about 4 hours to London, possibly longer with Sunday evening traffic." I inform him, trying to make conversation but he just nods, eyeing everyone around us. It makes me anxious.  
"Harry, relax. You're on a bus, I know all these people in here, they're not dangerous. Snap out of your bodyguard mode, please. You'll keel over at 30 if you keep going like this." He laughs, a surprised, quiet sound and looks at me with wide eyes.   
"Sorry. I can't really stop this, I don't even notice it anymore. It's become normal for me." His quiet admission totally takes the wind out of my sails, and my upcoming anger evaporates.   
"Just relax. Are you always like this? So on edge, always alert?" I can't imagine living like this. Surely everyone needs to relax, you can't always be watchful and tense.   
"I suppose so. It's who I am, Louis." Sincere green eyes lock with mine and I can't help but stare, spellbound. His eyes are so deep, I feel like I could get lost in them. He's the one to break the spell, his glance wandering over to Tom who sits at the front before he turns away from me to stare out of the window. At least he seems a bit more at ease now.   
Leaning my head back I try to get into a comfortable position which is hard when you don't have a window to lean against. I could, of course, sit in one of the free window seats but that would mean sitting away from Harry, and even though we're not exactly talking I feel perfectly content just sitting here. I'd have to move my jacket and my backpack too if I wanted to sit somewhere else and it's just too complicated and... Actually I just want to stay next to Harry, but I'm not going to admit that. Not even to myself.  
Finally finding a more or less comfortable position I put my headphones in and shut my eyes, maybe I can catch up on some of the sleep I lost during the past two nights...

I'm comfortable. That's the first thing I notice when I regain consciousness. I expected my neck to hurt from sleeping in a sitting position but weirdly enough it doesn't, not at all. I blink in confusion, but when I open my eyes all I see is black. What the hell?   
Lifting my head a bit more colous come into view...beige...skin. Holy fuck. Harry's shoulder!  
I sit up straight, completely startled. I've been sleeping on Harry's shoulder, fuck. How did that happen? Hesitantly I blink up at him only to be met with his signature smirk but his eyes are soft.   
"Sleeping beauty awakens, hm?" he grins, a boyish, young smile that takes my breath away. Wow. I blush scarlet once again, and it occurs to me that in the very short time I've known this man I've blushed more than ever before in my entire life. Why do I feel so shy around him? I usually don't give a fuck about what people think about me, why is he so different? Because I want him to think the best of me.  
No. He's just my bodyguard. I can't feel like this. I don't feel like this. It's just a momentary confusion.  
"Yeah, uhm, sorry? Long nights and almost getting robbed kind of get you tired." I snap, trying to hide my embarrassment. Fuck, why do I keep embarrassing myself in front of him? This can't keep happening, Tomlinson.   
"It's alright Louis, don't get snappy." He sounds surprised at my rough tone, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Well, not everyone is always as calm and collected as you, Styles. Especially not me.   
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you...I'm just grumpy when I'm tired." I try to explain, suddenly having the urge to ease the tension between us.   
"Guess I prefer you when you're asleep then. Means you can't talk and be grumpy." He smuggles a sly grin into my direction before staring out of the window again and my heart leaps in my chest, just a little of course.   
"Yeah? So you can take my super tight pants off me?" I breathe, blushing deeply. What the hell did I just say? Harry gasps, obviously appalled by my audacity.  
"Louis!" he hisses, pinning me into my seat with his hard stare. Shit, he's angry. I squirm in my seat, nervously biting my lip, hoping that I didn't make him too upset. His eyes flicker down to my lips for no more than a second and his eyes soften by a fraction, then they're burning back into my own with this intensity that has me frozen. "Don't say that out loud here! We could both get into a shit load of trouble if that comes out." So bossy. Hmm...   
"You know what Harry? If it is so appalling then why did you do it? I didn't ask for it okay, I was drunk and passed out so don't try to make me feel bad for saying out loud what you did!" I whisper back just as heatedly, my temper rising. Green eyes boldly stare into my blue ones but I refuse to let him intimidate me. Not this time. And slowly, so slowly the anger dissolves from his face, remorse replacing it, making his eyes burn warmly.   
"I'm sorry Louis, you're right. I shouldn't have done it. But these jeans -" his eyes flicker down to my legs for a moment, lips quirking up in a small smile at the sight of those very same jeans and I involuntarily lick my lips -" looked so uncomfortable. It was unprofessional and won't happen again, I'm sorry." What? A pang of disappointment shoots through me, making the smile I force onto my face bitter.   
"It's okay Harry, don't sweat it. I won't say anything else about it, and next time I go out I'll make sure not to wear such tight jeans so you don't get too tempted, alright?"   
He just stares at me, eyes wide, and for a moment I wonder if I've gone too far again. But then he snorts and bursts into a fit of laughter, and I know the day is saved. I join him, enjoying the way our laughter sounds together. I like his laugh, I want to hear it more often. Why does he always look so serious? Maybe I should power up my comedic side some more, make him laugh more often.  
My eyes land on his lips, so full and plump and pink...and so close. Holy shit. My mouth goes dry, and I can't help but think how these lips would feel on mine, on my body... I jerk away, shaking my head, breaking the spell. He looks just as taken aback as I do, quickly leaning back into his seat, eyes wild. Fuck, what was that. During our argument we both must have subconsciously leaned in and...I wanted him to kiss me. No, I didn't. I can't. I'm straight. Gay footballers...it just doesn't work. I'm not gay. It's just Harry...something about these green eyes and dimples and plump pink lips and long legs and fuck. I'm screwed. I'm so bloody screwed. This has to stop. Whatever it is that convinces my mind that Harry is something special so me, it has to stop, right now.  
I lean back, away from him, and stare out of the window at the other side of the bus, bringing as much space between our bodies as possible, and we spend the rest of the ride in awkward silence.   
When we arrive back in London the driver let's us out at the club office where all of us left our cars. Everyone's tired and ready to get some sleep before training starts on Monday, so the car park empties very quickly. Soon there is only a handful of people left, one of them being Harry who is busy talking on his phone. A thought comes to my mind and I hesitantly walk over to him and wait for him to finish the call before I fully approach him.  
"Harry? How are you getting home?" I ask, knowing for sure that his car is not here.  
"The tube," he answers simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and I cringe. I hate the tube. Ever since I moved to London from Doncaster I avoided the tube by all means, it's too crowded, too smelly for my liking. No, I prefer having my own space, and ever since I got my Audi last year I haven't set a foot in any public service vehicle. Why would anyone do that voluntarily?  
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry, I can drive you." He eyes my red Audi with sceptic eyes and shakes his head.  
"No thanks. Don't want to bother you, I'll take the tube. Just drive home, you still look exhausted." And the now oh-so familiar disappointment is back. He doesn't want me to drive him? Why?  
"Don't trust my driving skills, Styles?" I sulk, giving him my best Tommo pout and it works, his impassive mask shifts.  
"Go home, Louis." He orders softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow." Tomorrow, yes. I'll see him tomorrow. And with that promise fresh in my mind I drive off, a content smile on my face.


	5. Chapter 5

Gazing at myself in the mirror, hands balled to fists on my hips, I nibble at my bottom lip. Does this look ok? I'm wearing my black training shorts, the ones that I haven't worn for ages because they're very small. Very tight. But apparently Harry likes tight, so why not give him tight and short? People always say footballers have great legs, well, maybe it's time to show them off...  
A part of me just wants to laugh at how ridiculous I am, you know, that last sane part of me that hasn't been poisoned by Harry Styles yet. It's not a very big part, so I end up going to training in these short, very tight shorts. 

It's good to see all the guys again, everyone is ecstatic after the big win on Friday so we jump right into it, starting with running laps. I let my glance swipe across the field in the stadium, there's tons of people in here but I can't see the mop of curls and broad shoulders that I'm secretly looking for. Shrugging I keep running, and soon we start kicking around, just passing the ball onto each other and having some fun, and I get lost in the game like I always do. This is what I love.   
So I keep running, chasing the ball, laughing and joking with my teammates, Completely forgetting about everything else. That is until I look up and spot a tall guy leaning over the barrier around the field, hands folded in front of his chest. He's here.   
Trying to appear cool and collected I raise a hand to greet him and he nods, but doesn't walk over. Well, have it your way Styles. Time to start the show, Tomlinson.   
Our trainer comes over and we start our warm up exercises, and I make use of my shorts every chance I get, squatting down more often and deeper than necessary, bending down to innocently fix my shoes, stretching my legs... I have to admit that I enjoy this little game, very much so. And when I look up to see Harry strolling over to us to lean against the barrier just a few feet away, seemingly casual and collected but with a wild gleam in his eyes, I know that my game is working. Whatever it is that pulls me towards him, I'm very certain that he feels it too. Giving him a wicked grin and a wink I swiftly turn around and run back to my teammates, keeping my game up. Bending, squatting, stretching. All over again, and I can feel Harry's eyes on me the entire time. Every time I risk a glance in his direction his eyes are glued to me, raw, burning green. Holy shit, that look... It gives me goosebumps, even from this for away. I don't know what I'd do if I saw this look up close, I'd probably faint.   
We proceed to play a little test game, splitting the team in half and playing one half against the other. It's fun, just a relaxed game after the big weekend, to get us back down to earth, so nobody is too serious about it. Apart from Rob, that giant. He never liked me, and honestly the feeling is mutual. Rob is dumb as a piece of bread but very fast on his legs, that's why we need him. So when Rob comes sprinting towards me to take the ball of me, everyone expects him to slow down, to take it easy because it's just a fun game but he doesn't. Instead he runs right into me, knocking me over. My body hits the ground hard, knocking all the air out of my lungs and for a horrible second I can't breathe. Then the second passes, and much to my relief nothing hurts. Bastard. A move like that could have seriously hurt me to the point where I wouldn't be able to play for a few weeks.  
The usual shouts of protests from my teammates are heard as I hastily scramble to my feet, knowing full well that my special someone is watching and I don't want him to think I'm weak, that such an easy blow can knock me out. When I risk a glance in his direction I see that he's abandoned his slouched position and stands up straight, shoulders tense, his signature frown stronger than ever, hands balled to fists by his sides. And his eyes are on me, once again. Oh my.  
I give him a thumbs up and a weak smile, and he visibly relaxes. What the hell? Was he...is it possible that he was worried about me? That he thought I was hurt? Warm feelings bubble in my chest and I run off to the field with new energy.

About an hour later training is over and we all head off to the changing rooms to shower, chatting and laughing as we go, one as sweaty as the other. I quickly toss my sticky shirt aside, leaving me in just my shorts, those shorts, and an idea comes to my mind.   
I peek through the door, then quickly make my way back to the field, looking for Harry. He seemed to be quite fascinated by me in these shorts earlier, and I'm dying to know what he'd think of me in just these shorts.  
I don't have to look for him for very long, just as I turn onto one of the hallways that leads back to the field I see him, all tousled hair, broad shoulders and slim hips, and my hearts begins to race. The hallway is empty. There's just him and me, and with every step I take towards him my breathing quickens. Spotting me his eyes widen, pupils dilating as something dark flashes across his face, something that calls to me on some deeper level. Holy hell, there it is again, that smoldering look. I swallow harshly but continue stalking towards him, goosebumps raising on my now free skin.   
"Mr. Styles", I greet breathlessly once I reach him, blinking up at him.  
"Louis..." his deep, raspy voice echoes through the hallway, through the small space between us and I'm lost. Lost in the sound of his voice, lost in that look in his eyes, watching me intently like they did out on the field.  
"Do you like my shorts?" I breathe, involuntarily taking another step towards him so our chests are almost touching. His eyes widen, but he doesn't step back.  
"They're very short." he whispers back, green eyes traveling up and down my legs, leaving my skin tingling without even touching it.   
"And tight." I mumble, trying to make my voice as low as I can while deliberately biting my lip, hoping to get him to do something, anything. My eyes travel down from his to his lips, and shit I want him to kiss me. I don't know what this is, this spell that he cast on me, but it's damn strong. I'm straight, for fucks sake! But looking at these lips, at his face, I suddenly forget about everything else. I want him to kiss me, to touch me. I need him to. I'm feverish.  
"Oh, Louis..." he groans, indecision written on his face. And suddenly he moves, so quickly that I didn't even see it coming. Throwing me against the wall to his left he pins my body to the cold stone, effectively trapping me between the wall and his long, lean body so I can feel every sinew, every muscle of his. Christ.   
Ducking his face down until it's right in front of mine so I can feel his breath on my face he stares at me intently, his hands pinning my arms to my side, making me completely helpless in his grip. But somehow I don't feel threatened, at all. This is...hot. Having him towering over me like this, holding me, heating me with his burning gaze... Kiss me! Please!  
"What are you doing, you stupid, stupid boy?" his whisper is deep, breathless, leaving me panting.   
Releasing one of my wrists he raises his hand to my face and strokes my sweaty fringe off my forehead, long, graceful fingers barely touching my skin but still leaving it burning. I gasp as he trails those same fingers down my temple to my cheek, then over my lower lip. Kiss. Me.  
"No, Louis. We can't do this. We're in a business relationship, you're my client. No matter how much I..." he stops, and everything inside of me screams. How much you what? How much you want this? Fuck, I want this too, Harry! I want to shout at him, scream it into his face that I don't care about legal consequences whatsoever but I can't, I'm choked up, frozen in place.   
"No." he whispers again, and much to my dismay he let's go of me. Releasing me he steps back and raises his hands as if surrendering, his impassive mask back on, the earlier fire in his eyes nowhere to be seen.  
"I'll see you on Thursday. Don't forget about the press conference, I'll text you the details." And then he's gone, leaving me half naked and panting in the hallway, with a heavy heart and a cloudy mind.


	6. Chapter 6

I groan and roll over in my bed, my hand lashing out to wipe my buzzing phone off the bedside table. Whoever it is can wait, it's too early. The phone hits the ground with a loud smack and I groan again, knowing that I probably cracked the screen once again. No biggie, I'll just buy a new one - I constantly ruin my phones, impatient and careless person that I am. I can afford it, though. What's a new iPhone here and there?   
The buzzing finally stops, and just as I'm about to drift back off to sleep it starts buzzing again - luckily only twice, signalling that I got a text message. Whoever called me before obviously got the memo that I'm not answering my phone before 10 am, that's one of the Tommo rules. And I never break my own rules, only the rules people try to force upon me. Completely forgetting about my phone I drift off into a heavy sleep again.

When I wake up for the second time I still don't feel any better, I'm still tired. But I haven't been able to get much sleep over the last few days, ever since the incident with Harry on Monday. When he almost kissed me - and then didn't but instead told me to stay away from him. My mind just can't stop thinking of his unfinished sentence, 'no matter how much I...'. How much he what? Was he about to say that he wanted to kiss me? Just like I wanted him to kiss me? Is that what he meant, that he feels the same weird pull towards me that I feel towards him? Because if yes... fuck the rules. I don't care about that. We'd have to keep it a secret, but... Just the thought of being with Harry, kissing him, touching him... something clenches deliciously deep inside my belly and I hastily sit up, banning these thoughts from my head. I can't want him. And I bet he doesn't even want me, I bet I'm reading way too much into this. He hasn't contacted me for three days, I'm sure this is his way of telling me to back off. Maybe my little game on Monday was too much, too early. But that look on his face...it certainly seemed like he enjoyed the view. Of me. Sweaty. In those tight shorts. Images of him running his large hand up my thighs fill my mind, his skin effortlessly gliding over mine, higher, to my... Fuck! Jumping up from the bed I nearly step onto the phone I smashed down earlier. Christ. I have to stop imagining these kind of things. It's not like any of that is going to happen. I don't even know why I can't keep my mind off him, I've never had this before. This man confuses me. My feelings for this man confuse me. Am I really gay? No, I can't. I've been with girls all my life, loads of girls. And I enjoyed it. I never felt like anything was missing, like something wasn't right. Why the sudden change? Why do I suddenly feel this pull, this connection to a man? Just one man, my conscious chimes in. Yes, just Harry. I spent all of yesterday walking through London, just watching people. Watching men, to be exact. All kinds of men, trying to figure out if I see them differently now, if I feel that pull to any of them but no, nothing happened. I didn't find them attractive, not at all. Yet when I think of Harry...   
This is what's been keeping me up those past nights, this confusion. Not knowing what is happening to me, why this man comes barging into my life and turns it upside down within just a few days. It's embarrassing, really...  
Frowning, I bend down to pick up my phone, breathing out a quick sigh of relief when I see that the screen is still intact - seems like I was lucky for once. Lounging on my bed I unlock the phone and open the call log, my heart jumping in my chest when I see the unanswered call from earlier. Mr Cute and Deadly. Harry was the one who called me this morning. Fuck, why didn't I answer the phone? I could've woken up to his deep voice, why didn't I pick up the damn phone? Oh, right, Tommo rules. Maybe it's time to change them.  
I hastily check my phone for the text message I know I received, it's also from him.

From: Mr. Cute and Deadly, 8:17 

Good morning Mr. Tomlinson,

May I remind you that there is a press conference you are bound to attend at 4 this afternoon?   
I will collect you from your flat at 3 so we can make it to the stadium in time. I have to ask you to dress up, dress pants, shirt and tie are essential.   
See you this afternoon,   
Harry Styles.

I sigh loudly, comparing this text message to the ones we exchanged a few days ago. He's so formal, so distantly polite. Businesslike. Yeah, he's really not going to give into my begging, no way. He's too professional, I realise with disappointment. But at least I'll get to see him today, and I'll get to see him dressed up. I honestly can't wait, I bet those long legs of his would look amazing in dress pants...Stop, Tomlinson!   
Checking my watch I realise that it's already 11 so I go out for a jog then stop by Dunkin Donuts for coffee and breakfast. By the time I've eaten, showered and brushed my teeth it's already 1:30, so I decide to start picking out my clothes for tonight. I immediately head over to the left side of my walk-in closet, where I keep all my fancy clothes. I hate fancy clothes, vans, skinny jeans and tank top or sweaters are so much more my thing, but being as famous as I am I sometimes have to endure meetings, dinners or annoying press conferences like today, and they always force me to dress up for these things. I hate it. I don't even have my tie on yet but I already can't wait for the moment I get to take it off tonight. Ties are so suffocating, who even invented these?  
I pick my favourite black leather shoes and a simple white shirt with a black tie, the classics. I'm not in the mood for anything risqué today, it's just a dull boring press conference anyway. No need to go all out. Pants next... I pick a pair of my various black dress pants, and if I deliberately picked the tightest pair I have because they make my bum look good then that definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Harry seems to like tight pants. Nothing at all.   
Before I get dressed I carefully style my hair into a messy quiff, nodding at myself in the mirror when I'm done. That should do. I am fully dressed by 2:30 and I have to say I'm amazed by myself; I'm early. I usually don't do early. But I know that Harry will probably be early, and I don't want to make him wait unnecessarily long. Harry... my hearts starts pounding just a little bit quicker when I think of him. I'll see him soon. He hasn't contacted me for 3 days, how do I react? How will he react? He will probably be his usual calm, collected and distant self. If that's what he wants, he can have it.   
I'm standing outside my flat at quater to three, knowing that I won't have to wait for Harry for very long. And sure enough, barely two minutes later a shiny black Range Rover pulls into the driveway of my house, parking next to my Audi. I immediately walk towards the car, and suddenly I feel nervous. Beyond nervous actually. How is he going to react? Will he like the way I look? I know that his opinion shouldn't matter as much as it does but how am I supposed to stop this?   
The drivers door opens, and seconds later Harry gracefully folds his long body out of the car, and my heart stops beating only to start again with doubled speed. Holy fuck. He looks amazing, his curls pushed back over his forehead, his black button up clinging to his body, the black dress pants hanging off his hips in a way that should be forbidden. Why is this man so beautiful? I blush, realising that I finally admitted it - yes, he's beautiful. Sculptured plump lips, sharp jawline, creamy skin, bright eyes and soft hair. Not to mention his body - no, I truly wouldn't change a hair on his head.   
I blush, realising that I've been staring like a madman, but Harry doesn't say anything. He just stares back, that dark, smouldering look in his eyes that raises goosebumps all over my body.   
Then his impassive mask is back on and the moment is over.  
"Mr. Tomlinson" he greets, his deep voice cool. I sigh inwardly.  
"Call me Louis please. No need to go back to extremely stiff and formal." I snap, extremely irritated by his behaviour.  
"Louis, we're in a business relationship. We have to be formal with each other, according to protocol." Harry explains, looking down at me with an almost patient look like he's explaining something to a child, irritating me further.  
"I fucking know what kind of relationship we're in, Mr. Styles. Now if you'd excuse me, I have a press conference to attend to." With that I push past him and throw myself into the passengers seat of his car, waiting for him to get in, my arms crossed over my chest, rage bubbling inside me. Why does this have to be so damn difficult?

The press conference is a joke. Seven of our best players sit at a long table along with our trainer and some managers, expensive wine and nuts in front of us while a bunch of journalists grills us about all kinds of things. Question after question, the same old things over and over again. How do we feel after the big win? What's next after this? What new players will join our team, who will leave? How do we get along? Same old shit, different day. I let most of my colleagues do the talking, I'm not very good at this lifeless nonsense interview talk. Unless someone addresses me directly I keep my mouth shut. Tom and I had massive arguments about that when I first started in the team, because I can't lie. When I speak in interviews I always say the truth, simple as that. Tom tried to teach me how to vaguely avoid the actual point of the question and just ramble on about rainbows and unicorns but I wasn't having it, so eventually we agreed that it's just better for me to stay silent of possible. Fine by me.   
Harry is standing in the corner to my right along with other bodyguards and family members, girlfriends, the like, but I can proudly say that I didn't look at him once ever since I sat down. Though it is tempting, knowing that he looks absolutely delicious in his all-black outfit, his blazer hugging his broad shoulders, his pants making his legs appear even longer than they are...but nope. He wants distance, he gets distance.

"Louis Tomlinson?" I quickly snap my head up, I was just about to fall asleep when my name is called. I scan the crowd, looking for whoever is holding the microphone. It's a short, almost bald man in a badly fitting suit.  
"Yes, Mr...?"  
"Barnes. From The Sun." Oh, the sun. Lovely. Who even invites these losers?   
"Shoot away, Mr. Barnes." I smirk wryly, seeing Toms sour expression out of the corner of my eye.   
"You've constantly been photographed falling out of nightclubs, drunkenly, very often with females by your side. Don't you think that as a role model for ambitious young football talents, you should behave more as a respectable member of our society?" I gasp, shocked. The entire room is silent, all eyes on me and suddenly swallowing becomes impossible as fury sweeps through me. You little fucker. Sitting up straight I raise my head, giving the good Mr. Barnes an amused smile.  
"Mr. Barnes. As you are coming from such a serious and competent paper as The Sun, I am not surprised at all that all you can focus on is my private life and not my career." A few chuckles are heard here and there and I smirk, knowing that a lot of other journalists dislike The Sun just like I do.  
"As I stated in the sentence before, it is my private life. Stress on private. What counts is what I do on the field. I shoot goals, I play well. That's what these young and ambitious football talents you were talking about should focus on. What I do when I'm not on the field is entirely my own choice, and if I like my life the way it is then so it be. Would you rather I sit at home collecting stamps and playing chess? Is that how you define a 'respectable member of society'? Because that's not going to happen. Next question." There, topic done, another Sun reporter slayed. God, these people are annoying. But I can't shake my sour mood for the rest of the day; Mr. Barnes effectively ruined my mood for good today. Why can't people just leave me alone? Why do they always follow me everywhere I go, watch every step I take like vultures, waiting for me to make one wrong move? Suddenly I feel trapped, cornered with an urgent need to get out of here, to breathe, to get away from this constant surveillance for at least a short while. So as soon as the last group picture was shot I head out of the room, ignoring Tom calling my name, and head straight for the team's changing room. Nobody is going to be in there, not now, and I desperately need to be alone. So I sink down on the bench in front of my locker, resting my head in my hands, staring at the so familiar tiles on the floor. Is this how it will be forever? People watching me, judging what I do without even knowing me in the slightest? Without giving me a single chance to explain myself before they assume the worst? It's tiring.   
There's a timid knock at the door, and just as I get ready to yell at Tom and tell him to fuck off the door opens, revealing a mop of brown curls. Great, just what I needed.  
"Louis?" Harry asks hesitantly, slowly stepping into the room, closing the door behind him.  
"Oh, so we're back to Louis now?" I snap, not in the mood for his confusing changes of mind.   
"Are you okay?" he wonders, his voice soft. I suppose his eyes are, too, but I refuse to look up and instead keep my eyes set on the floor. I feel a gush of air and seconds later the bench moves slightly, indicating that he sat down beside me. I stop breathing for a moment.  
"I don't know. Am I okay? Would you be okay if people constantly harassed you because of what you do? Would you be okay if people watched you every single day, just waiting for you to make a mistake so they can rub it into your face every chance they get? Because no, Harry, that's not okay. It's not okay that they treat me and the other guys like fatstock, constantly harassing us. It's not okay that they always just focus on the negative things we do. Just a month ago I donated a huge amount of money to a charity that helps children with leukaemia, did anyone mention that? No. I organise charity game after charity game, raising money to support various good causes and no one ever gives me credit for that! Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing it for good press but it sucks, it sucks that people never acknowledge the good we do but instead only focus on the bad. So to answer your question, no, I'm not okay." I suck in a deep breath, breathless after my long speech. Wow. Where did that even come from? And then I realise that I never really talked about that before, about feeling judged like that. I never really opened up, yet a few words from Harry Styles and the words fall from my mouth like the Niagara Falls. How does he do that? I risk a glance at his face, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide with surprise. Yeah, he didn't expect an answer like that. Hell, I didn't even expect that myself.   
"Louis...you're a good person, I know you are. You might not always do the right thing, but you have a very good heart. Don't let these people poison it. It doesn't matter that they don't acknowledge your good work. You know what you did, and so do the children whose lives you changed or even saved. Focus on that, not on the rest of the world. They don't matter." Holy shit, he's dead serious, his green eyes burning into mine with sincere intensity, hypnotising me.  
"But it's so hard..." I whisper, for once not caring about how weak I sound.  
"I know it is." He gives me a sympathetic smile, his exes growing sad. "But I know you can do this. Focus on the football, focus on the good you can do, not on the negative things people say about you. The important people know who you really are, you know who you really are, and as long as you don't forget that you'll be fine."   
"Do you know who I really am?" I can't help but ask, seriously intrigued.   
"I think I'm getting there." He replies simply, a boyish grin on his face. I can't help but grin back at him.  
He rests his hand on my knee for a moment, giving it a reassuring squeeze before getting up and walking towards the door, and every single nerve in my body lights up. This is what I need. Him, close. Fuck the distance.  
"Harry!" I call after him, hoping that he'll turn back around. He does, watching me expectantly but warily.  
"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" Did I really just ask that? Shit, he's going to say no. I know he'll say no. I nervously bite my lip, fidgeting while waiting for his answer. Something flashes across his face, too quickly for me to decipher what it was, and then he shakes his head. I knew it.  
"I can't, Louis. Business relationship, remember?" He smiles half-heartedly, something heavy mixing up with his voice. Is it regret? An idea comes to my mind, and I quickly try a different approach.  
"Okay, right. Then how's this, I'm hungry and as my bodyguard on duty I need you to accompany me to a restaurant to make sure that I don't get robbed or attacked?" I ask hopefully, blinking up at him, silently begging him to agree. The seconds drag on forever, and then he finally smiles, a slow, cheeky grin that makes my heart stutter slightly.  
"I guess I could do that. As your bodyguard on duty, of course." I laugh, feeling almost dizzy with relief, my foul mood long forgotten. "Of course."

"What do you want to eat?" I ask over the sound of the soft music playing in the background. We're at Café Royal, a fancy restaurant and hotel in Central London where I managed to get a small private dining room for tonight, knowing that Harry wouldn't want to be seen sitting at a table with me. And in all honesty, I wanted privacy too. I want to have him all to myself, to talk to him without having to worry about people watching us.   
"Nothing, Louis, thank you. I can't let you invite me to dinner."   
"Do you seriously think I'm just going to let you sit there while I eat? No way Styles. Choose something or I'll choose for you." I pick up the menu, giving him a challenging glance over the rim of the brochure. He doesn't move. Fine then.  
The waiter arrives and I order a glass of water and orange juice for Harry, earning a small smile from him that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc for myself. Then I order my food, a beef Wellington with a side of seasonal vegetables and au gratin potatoes.   
"Harry?" I ask, giving him one last chance to choose his food himself. He just shakes his head, though, and I shrug.  
"He'll have the same as me," I inform the waiter, and before Harry can protest I send him away with a wink of my hand.  
"Louis, please. I can't eat while on duty. Not a fancy dinner like this."   
"I'm just feeding my bodyguard, Harry. Can't have him starve on duty can I?" I smile innocently, blinking up at him through long lashes, and finally, after what seems like a small eternity, he smiles.  
"You really are something else."   
"I sure am. Would you have me any other way?" I joke though I know full well the meaning of my question. His smile falls a little, his face becoming pained.  
"No, Louis, I wouldn't."  
""Good, because I'm not going to change, no matter how many Mr. Barnes' from The Sun beg me to become a more respectable member of society," I joke, hoping to erase his tension. It works, I'm rewarded with his deep laughter.   
"That was one hell of a comeback. His face was priceless. Though I believe Mr. Parker wasn't all that happy with your answer."   
"Tom? He's never happy with what I do. I think he's constantly mad at me." I explain, smiling fondly. Tom is one good lad, putting up with me day after day. Despite our constant bickering he's one of my closest friends.  
"Is he now?" Harry asks dryly, arching one eyebrow up in amusement.  
"Oh, he is indeed. You'll get to that point as well, trust me." I tease, smirking.   
Harry mumbles something that sounds a lot like "I'm already there" under his breath but is rescued from having to answer when the waiter comes back with our food, it looks mouth-wateringly good. Press conferences and annoying journalists always make me hungry.

When Harry drops me off in front of my house it's already dark outside, and I realise with a start that it's almost 10 pm. Holy shit, I just spent more than three hours in a small private room with Harry Styles. And it was...nice. Very nice indeed. The food was delicious, and just being with Harry was enough to completely erase my sour mood. We talked a lot, about everything and nothing, about music and our favourite films - not so surprisingly Harry is more into books than movies, I fully intent to change that. He asked me about my family and how I started playing football, and though he blocked off when I asked him about his own family it was so good to talk to him like that, freely, without any barriers. We laughed a lot, there was never an uncomfortable moment of silence between us, and my head is spinning not just from the wine I consumed but also from being around Harry for so long, something about him is so intoxicating to me.  
"Will you be alright Louis? You've had a few glasses of wine..." He opens the passengers door for me, glancing down at me in concern.   
I wave my hand in front of his face, smiling. "I'm used to much stronger drinks than wine, I'll be fine." With that I hop out of his car, stumbling a little when I reach the ground. His range rover really is quite high and I am very short, means there is a lot of distance to cover.  
He immediately reaches for my arm, steadying me, and warmth floods through my entire body.   
"Louis..." he mumbles, even more concerned now.  
"Really, Harry, I'm fine, your car is just a bit too high for my liking." I explain, smiling up at him through my lashes. His face shifts, and in my slightly intoxicated state I can't help myself, I lean up to hug him. He's clearly surprised and stiff as a rock at first, but when I squeeze my arms around his waist he finally relaxes and puts his arms around me in return. I'm in heaven, pure heaven. Harry everywhere, his arms around me, his smell engulfing me, even more intoxicating to me than the wine I had this evening.   
I feel confusingly bereft when he releases me, his eyes wide.   
"Good night Louis."   
"Good night, Harry." I whisper, still reeling from his touch.  
And when I fall into bed a few minutes later, I get a full night of untroubled, deep sleep for the first time in three days.


	7. Chapter 7

Turning over again I try to find a comfortable position but it seems impossible, this couch is clearly not made for me. I'm bored. Extremely bored actually. It's been a game free weekend and I haven't really done shit the last few days. I didn't feel like going out, so I basically just lazed around at my house all day, going for a jog in the morning and bringing the calories I burned back in by ordering pizza in the evening. It's Sunday evening now, and I'm bored out of my mind. The TV is on, some reporter with badly fitting suit and too much makeup on his face is rambling on about the news but I turn the device to mute, not in the mood to listen. What can I do? Going out now is not an option, I have training tomorrow and it's Sunday anyway, nobody's gonna want to go out with me because all my friends have work tomorrow. So what now?  
I aimlessly scroll through my phone, playing candy crush for a while but that isn't really doing it for me either. Christ, I really do need a distraction, something exciting to happen. Or someone...  
Before my mind can catch up my fingers move across the screen, sending a text message quicker than you can say Yorkshire Tea.

________________________________________  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 20:43   
Styles, what are you up to? x   
________________________________________

I sit up, biting my lip nervously while waiting for his answer. I haven't seen him since Thursday, but Thursday was good. Really good. We talked for hours and got along really well, laughing about all the little things and just enjoying each other's company. Well, at least I did. He didn't say anything about that night so far but the constant smile he had on his face made me believe that he, too, enjoyed our time together, despite him just wanting a business relationship. Maybe it was the private dining room that allowed him to open up, or maybe he's not as good at following his rules as he'd like to be. Whatever it is, I'll take it because I had an amazing time. And that hug...  
My phone buzzing distracts me from my thoughts and I immediately unlock it, smiling widely when I read his text.

________________________________________  
From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 20:46  
Drinking orange juice. You?   
________________________________________

His immediate reply makes me smile, I love this orange juice joke we have going on.

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 20:48  
I knew it. Do you ever drink anything else?  
I'm bored. :/ tried watching TV but it sucks tonight.   
________________________________________  
________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 20:53  
I do, water. And tea. Coffee. Milk. Apple juice. Smoothies. Hot chocolate.   
Well then, may I suggest you read a book?   
________________________________________

I laugh loudly at his clear reference to our heated discussion about TV and books on Thursday before typing my reply, still grinning like a child on Christmas, my boredom long forgotten.

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 20:57  
Jeez, I get it. Health freak. You need a nice cold beer every now and then, maybe it could help you unwind? ;-)  
No. Books are even more boring than boring TV. Besides, I don't own a single one, shame on me.  
________________________________________

________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:01  
I don't need to unwind.  
You don't own a single book? Can you even read, Tomlinson?  
________________________________________

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:03  
Yes, you do. Most of the time, not always though. You were fine on Thursday :-)  
Yes, I can indeed. My name. And yours.  
________________________________________

________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:07  
That's because we were alone in a private room, you were about as safe as you could ever be.  
Well, I'm glad you know the essentials to make it through life. Why mine?   
________________________________________

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:10  
I'm never safe with you. ;-)  
Because you're my much valued bodyguard, that's why.  
________________________________________

And because I'm totally into you, but you don't need to know that. Nobody does. But I think he knows already, and I think he feels the same...maybe. He's still a mystery, one minute he's so closed off and cold and then he's smiling and laughing along with me. This man confuses me like nobody else, I swear.

________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:16  
I think you've got that the wrong way round, Louis. You endanger me. A lot.  
Much valued, am I now? I'll report that to Mister Parker, I bet he'll be pleased to hear that you seem to approve of his idea of getting you a bodyguard then. I've been informed that you put up quite the fight when he suggested it ;-)  
________________________________________

I endanger him? A lot? My mouth goes dry. Is he flirting with me? I was clearly flirting with him, but oh my... Nodding to myself I decide to pick things up another notch, just to see how he'll react. He seems to be in a good mood, maybe this is my chance to figure out how he feels?

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:20  
I endanger you? Oh, please elaborate Mr. Styles. How does one as innocent and small as me endanger a strong man like you?   
I still don't like the idea of having a bodyguard, but the guy I ended up with is not too bad. He's got curls, what else is there to say? Cute and deadly, that's what it is. ;-)  
________________________________________

This time it takes him a while to answer, and somehow I can practically see the wheels spinning behind his forehead even though he's not even here. I can feel his internal battle through every second that passes, so when his reply finally comes in my heart starts pounding madly.

________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:32  
Yes, you endanger me. You make me lose myself and my sense of duty, Louis. That's very dangerous, for both of us.  
Not too bad hm? And if you're so keen on the curls maybe I should cut them off, can't have them distract you can we?  
________________________________________

I make him lose himself? And his sense of duty. Does that mean...does that mean he wants me? Because yes, we're in a business relationship so yes, we're not allowed to be romantically involved in any kind of way. If he says I make him forget about his duty, does this mean he feels this intense pull towards me that I feel towards him? Does his mind keep wandering back to me like mine does to him? Christ. When I type my reply I notice that my fingers are shaking, but even the deepest breath I can take can't calm me down.

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 21:35  
If making you lose yourself gets me more moments like Thursday evening, I'll gladly keep doing it.  
NO! Please don't. I'm not sure a bald head would suit you.   
________________________________________

 

Besides, I really want to be able to pull those curls when I kiss him, ride him...shit. I blush, glad that he isn't here to see it and guess my thoughts. Why am I so sexually frustrated when it comes this man? I never felt like this before, this irresistible pull towards another person. What does he do to me?

We keep texting for hours, just bickering, bantering and teasing, and I find myself laughing out loud at his messages more often than not. I've long since brushed my teeth and curled up in bed, and my eyes are starting to get heavy.

________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 01:37  
It's late, Louis. You need to sleep and so do I. Go to bed x  
________________________________________

I smile, knowing that he cares about me enough to want me to get enough sleep. He's right, I should really go to bed. But how can I when my heart is still pounding like crazy?

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 01:39  
Alright, I'll let you off. But only because I need my beauty sleep, not everyone is blessed with a naturally pretty face like you x   
________________________________________

Fuck. Did I really just send that? Holy shit. My mind must be more cloudy than I realised, maybe my brain is already asleep and shut off and that's why I type shit like this. It's not like it isn't true, he's got a gorgeous face but I was never ever going to admit that. What now? I hastily type another message.

________________________________________  
To: Mr Cute and Deadly, 01:40  
I'm sorry, my mind is too tired to actually know what I'm writing.   
________________________________________

________________________________________  
From: Mr Cute and Deadly, 01:42  
Sleep, Louis. I'll see you tomorrow.  
Don't text me back or neither of us will get any sleep tonight ;-)  
PS: You don't need beauty sleep either.  
________________________________________

And so I fall asleep with a ridiculously broad grin on my face and my phone clutched to my chest, knowing that Harry Styles stayed up until almost 2am just to text me, and if the knowledge that he thinks I'm pretty makes my world spin just a little bit faster, then so it be.

__________________________________________________________________________________

I hate Monday trainings, and today I'm in an exceptionally bad mood. I don't know what it is, maybe it's the pouring rain and dark grey clouds outside that ruin my mood, maybe it's the fact that I haven't seen Harry since Thursday and I miss him, crazy as that sounds. Thursday went so well, I felt so at ease with him. Yesterday was the same, our SMS banter was entertaining as ever. And he was definitely flirting, some pretty risqué messages were sent by both of us. Mostly me, but he did have white a few good ones as well and I can't help but wonder what that means. Is he warming up the the though of us? Is he letting go of his stupid idea of a business relationship? Whatever it is, I'll take it. I'll definitely take it because at this point I will take just about everything I can get from this man.

Training is dull and boring, we all run around halfheartedly, not wanting to slip on the wet grass and nobody really seems to put in any effort, not even our trainer Ross who usually is motivation personified. Seems like the weather is bringing us all down.   
By the time our two hours are over I'm completely soaked, my shorts and jersey practically glued to my body, clinging to it, and my hair is a dripping mess. I can't wait to get out of this shitass weather and take a nice, warm shower, so I immediately head over to the changing room but Tom stops me.   
"Louis? Hey, can you put these into the girls' changing room before you go shower? It's empty now and you're heading into that direction anyway." He hands me a stack of neatly folded jerseys and I roll my eyes but take them anyway. I'm not even in the mood to argue with Tom, that's how moody I am.  
So I carry myself over to the locker room at the other end of the hall, throw the jerseys onto one of the benches in there and turn around to leave, more than ready for a shower.   
Before I can close the door behind me I freeze, my movements halting completely.  
"Louis." Harry greets me, clearly amused by the shock on my face. What is he doing here? It's just training, no fan encounters or anything planned, he shouldn't be here. He came to see you, my subconscious murmurs proudly but I ignore it. And damn, he looks good, dressed in his usual black jeans, black coat and black boots attire, his curls slightly damp from the rain outside and my fingers twitch, itching to touch them.  
"What are you doing here?" I gasp, feeling incredibly warm all of a sudden despite still being in my wet training gear.  
"I, uh..." his eyes widen as they travel down my body, taking in my soaked clothes, heating every inch of my skin that they pass and I shudder involuntarily.   
"Harry?" His eyes snap up to look into mine and he blushes, a fine, peachy blush that starts to cover his cheeks and leaves me breathless. He's so incredibly beautiful, wow.  
"I... I had nothing to do today so I thought I'd come by to make sure that you're okay after you stayed up so late last night." Excuse, something inside me whispers. I can't help but grin up at him, another one of these ridiculously happy grins that only he seems to be able to cause.   
"Yes, some pretty rude guy kept me up half of the night." And oh, how I love when he keeps me up half of the night. Though I'd like it to be something more intense than just texting next time....  
"Incredibly rude," he breathes, his eyes skimming over my body again and I involuntarily step closer to him, gazing up at him through my lashes. His eyes darken, becoming cloudy and scorching and I just can't take it anymore.   
Grabbing him by his coat I yank him towards me and push him through the door of the locker room, out of everyone else's sight. The door slams shut when I roughly throw Harry against it, effectively shielding us from the rest of the world. And then I kiss him, my fingers running through his curls, fisting them, pulling his mouth down to mine and when our lips finally meet my knees nearly give in. His lips are soft, so plump and soft and oh god... I expect him to push me away but he doesn't, not at all. Instead he groans loudly, the sound resonating deep down in my very core and I slip my tongue into his mouth, wanting to be as close to him as possible. I want to feel him, all of him, I want to take everything he has to give because this moment might very well be the only thing I'll ever get from him, though I refuse to accept that.   
Wrapping his large hands around my waist he pulls me flush against his chest until I can feel his heart beat next to mine, a rapid, irregular sound similar to the one mine creates. It's intoxicating, his proximity, our tongues entwining in a heavy dance, his smell all around me, him...  
"Louis," he breathes when he pulls away, moving his fingers to my forehead to push my wet fringe out of my face. "What are we doing? This isn't right," his voice is soft, wavering and breathless, not convincing at all even though his words hurt.  
"I never cared about wrong and right," I manage to reply weakly, my head still spinning. He can't push me away, not now. Please. Now that I've tasted what it feels like to be close to him I want more, so much more because it was heaven, pure heaven. I never felt this before, this spark deep within. I even forgot about the fact that I was just kissing a man; it didn't matter to me because it was Harry and it felt so right. How dare he tell me that it's wrong?  
"I know you don't, but I do."   
I pout, sensing that my world is about to crash into a thousand pieces when suddenly his eyes flicker down to my lips, and when a second later he smashes his lips against mine again, I know that he's lying.


	8. Chapter 8

When he breaks away the second time it's not out of protest but because we both need air, desperately. He stares down at me while we stand there, panting and trying to catch our breath but I can see the confusion in his eyes. Hell, I'm confused too. In fact, I've never been this confused in my life but at the same time it's so simple. I want him. I don't care that he's a man and so am I, it scares me to death but this kiss just proved to me that my need for him is stronger than my fear for my career. It just felt so right, I felt like I finally found what I've been looking for for years without even realising it was missing.  
Harry straightens up and steps away from me, bringing enough distance between us so I can't touch him anymore and my heart sinks. He doesn't feel the same, of course he doesn't. How could I stupidly believe that this man would ever want something from someone like me?  
"Shit, Louis..." I jump when Harry's fist suddenly flies out to connect with the lockers at the side of the room, the impact of his punch leaving a dent in the metal but he doesn't even flinch. Instead he leans against the wall and brings his hands up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration while his face twists in agony. Fuck.  
I hesitantly walk over to him, not really sure what to do but I know that I have to do something.  
"Harry, what's wrong?" I nervously place my hand on his arm, rubbing it to comfort him.  
"What's wrong?" he laughs, a cold harsh laugh that makes me recoil from him. "Louis, we just kissed. What are we doing? What am I doing? This is not professional, we can't do this. If people find out..."  
Shit, I knew it. Harry and his damn morals. Who cares about what people think?  
"Harry, I don't care about the others."  
"So you'd happily lose your job for this? Louis, this isn't right. We're in a business relationship and..." This time it's me who snorts with laughter, this all sounds too familiar. He said all that before and yet here we are.  
"Then why kiss me? Why lead me on like this?" I yell, my frustration getting the best of me.  
"Lead you on? Fuck, Louis I didn't lead you on, I..."  
"Don't you see how hard this is for me? I've never been interested in guys yet you come along and turn my entire life upside down! I was happy with the way my life was, I had football and my parties and girls and now it all makes me miserable because I realise that it was all dull compared to what I feel when you're around! I'm so scared of this, of feeling like this because yes, if people find out that's gonna be the end of my career and I'm gonna be the joke of the century but you know what? I thought you'd be worth it. Guess I was wrong." Turning on my heels I march towards the door, my heart heavy in my chest. I went from ecstatically happy to absolutely crushed in mere minutes and my head is spinning like crazy, I can't think straight. Yet there is one thing I have to know. So before I open the door I turn back around, gazing at him with sad eyes.  
"Then why? Tell me, if this is so wrong why did you kiss me? Why did you kiss me back?" My voice is small, defeated but I don't care. Right now, I don't want to be witty, sassy strong Louis Tomlinson. Right now, I just want to know why this man that I'm falling for kissed me only to tell me that he can't be with me. I want to understand.  
"Because I shouldn't want this. I can't want this. We have to keep our distance..." but even as he speaks I can see his determination waver, I can hear his voice losing its conviction while his eyes flicker down to my lips.  
"But I don't want distance," I can't help but whisper but I immediately hope that he didn't hear me because it will undoubtedly just lead to another of his life lessons about business relationships and all that crap. I honestly don't want to hear about that anymore. I just want to go home and lie in bed and forget about this man. Please?  
But as I reach for the door to finally leave a hand on my shoulder stops me dead in my tracks. What does he want now?  
"Harry, what...?" I whisper but stop when he places his finger against my lips, silencing me.  
"I'm sorry, Louis. This is so wrong but I can't stop. I should just let you walk out of that door and ask for a different employment but I can't. I don't know what it is, but I can't resist you." Holy fuck. He can't resist me? I open my mouth to speak, to ask if this is just another of his mind changes but before I can speak he silences me again, this time by pressing his lips to mine and my brain is shut off. Everything falls away except for him pulling me into his arms, holding me close, his mouth moving against mine, our tongues a tangled mess. Shit, this man can kiss. I respond immediately, weaving my fingers through his hair and gripping it tightly to pull him down to me, wanting him closer still. He groans, a raw, desperate sound deep in his throat and I'm surprised that my legs don't give in then and there, how does he manage to have such an effect on me? It's madness. Mad but magic.  
"Harry?" I breathe once we pull apart, a hopeful smile on my face. "Can I see you tonight? Like, do you maybe, I don't know...do you want to come over or something?" Christ, I feel like a teenager asking for a first date. How embarrassing was that, get your shit together Tomlinson.  
Harry just chuckles, shaking his head in amusement and I pout playfully, pretending to be sulking because he's making fun of me.  
"Okay." He leans forward to place a quick kiss against my lips and then heads for the door, leaving me a surprised mess. Well, that was easy.  
"I'll wait for you in front of your house. See you soon." And then he's gone, and my legs finally do give in. I sink down onto one of the benches with a heavy sigh, subconsciously running my fingers across my lips, trying to savour the feeling of his lips on them. Oh, those lips... Christ, that was one unexpected turn of events. I have no clue what this really means now but I know for sure that he feels it just like I do, he feels this magnetic pull between us. He can't resist me, and I can't help but break into a huge grin. This is still so confusing to me, and I know that we'll constantly have to play cat and louse with everyone else, we can't let anyone discover our relationship or we'll both be screwed. But with his kiss fresh on my lips and my blood still singing in my veins I'm ready to take on whatever life throws at us. He's worth it.

_____________________

"Louis? You're not showering?" I turn around to find Tom watching me quizzically as I hastily make my way down the hallway towards the exit, still in my wet training gear and indeed unshowered.  
"Uhm, no. I've got a...I need to get home quickly so I've got no time for a shower here."  
"Is everything okay? What's so urgent?" Great, tommo. Now you got him worried and he's not going to back down.  
"Nah, everything's fine. A ...friend is coming over tonight and he just texted me that he's waiting in front of my house so I don't want to keep him waiting." And some friend he is. I swallow harshly, my mind wandering back to the way he held me against the wall earlier, possessing me...  
"Oh, okay then, I don't want to keep you any longer. I just wanted to ask if everything is okay with Harry?" I freeze. What? Could he possibly know about is? No way. He can't have picked up on that already can he?  
"What do you mean?" I ask stiffly, unsure of what to say while I nervously play with the car keys in my hands.  
"Well, you never wanted a bodyguard. How are you two getting along? Are you comfortable with him?" Oh, very comfortable indeed. I can't help the smug smile on my face when I think about how comfortable we were just minutes ago. Jep, I'd say things are getting along very well between us, but of course I can't tell Tom and I'm relieved that he's still in blissful ignorance concerning our relationship.  
"We get along quite well, he's a good guy. It's still weird for me to constantly have a shadow but I guess Harry isn't too bad." No, not too bad indeed.  
"That's good, Louis. It's for your own safety, remember? Have a good day and have fun with your friend." He pats my shoulder and then squeezes past me back to his office and I sent a silent prayer to heaven that I didn't let anything slip that could lead to him having second thoughts about harry and I . Phew. But now I really need to run and get home because harry is waiting and I'm impatient to see him again, even though it's only been about 20 minutes since I last saw him. Christ, I have it bad already.

_____________________

My heart jumps in my chest when I park my Audi next to his Range Rover and see him sitting on the stairs in front of my porch.  
"Hi," I breathe when I finally reach him, and almost immediately a smile takes over my face. He grins back.  
"Hi yourself."  
I notice how his eyes scan every room in my house, looking for a possible threat or danger. Right, bodyguard mode.  
"Harry, relax. This is my house, it's safe. We're safe." I assure him, giving him an encouraging smile. I hate it when he's so tense, it makes me uneasy.  
"It's not me I'm worried about. And I can't help it, it's the way I'm made." He shrugs apologetically and I nod, then throw my phone at him. He catches it, bemused, and I grin at his surprised reaction.  
"I thought you could order pizza while I go and shower?"  
"Order pizza? I'm not sure if that's part of my job description, Mr. Tomlinson." he teases, his eyes playful.  
"Right, the infamous 7 sentences. I never got to read them."  
"Well, there's no need to anymore. I think we abandoned those a while ago, wouldn't you agree?" I grin up at him as he casually strolls over to where I'm standing, an amused spark in his eyes that makes them shine in a brighter shade of green than usual.  
"Well, then I guess you can rise to the challenge of ordering pizza." I breathe, my mouth going dry. He's so close, I want to... As if he can read my mind he leans down and kisses me, a quick but lingering kiss that leaves my mind reeling.  
"Go shower Louis, I don't want you to get sick in your wet clothes."  
"Okay. A pepperoni pizza for me please, the pizza delivery guy knows my address."  
"Does he now?" he mutters disapprovingly, a frown on his face.  
"Yes. I eat a lot of pizza actually. Pizza is life." I defend my favourite food, my hands on my hips. Besides, I train enough so a pizza here and there doesn't really make a difference.  
"You know, one day I'm going to cook you a proper dinner." He nods, obviously pleased with his plan while I gasp.  
"You can cook?"  
"Of course I can cook." he smiles cockily, then points at the door that leads to the hallway. "Shower, now."  
And so I quickly obey and get showered, but I can't really relax under the hot water. Not when I know that Harry is in my house, waiting for me. So I get showered quicker than ever before and towel dry myself at lightning speed, then throw on some clothes - I go for sweatpants and a hoodie because it's my home, nobody sits around in jeans all day do they? So about ten minutes after I left the kitchen I burst back into it, expecting to see Harry waiting for me but he isn't here. Where the hell did he wander off to? Did he change his mind and leave? No, he wouldn't, would he? I head over to the large living room and immediately relax when I see him standing in front of one of the large paintings that cover the room's walls, his beautiful face set in a frown.  
"Not your favourite kind of art?" I ask while strolling over to him, trying to appear casual when in reality I'm anything but. To telll you the truth I'm fucking excited that he is here, in my house.  
"No. I'm not into abstract art, but I thought I'd have a look at it anyway." Oh, it's abstract art? I had no idea, the pictures were recommended by the architect that designed the interior of my house and since I don't care about art at all I just bought what she suggested without giving it too much thought. But of course Harry knows about art, he's just the type to spend his days at a museum and then go home to drink orange juice and read a cheesy novel. Strangely, a few weeks ago I would've labeled this lifestyle as incredibly boring and prude but now I have the sudden urge to go to museums and learn about art just to be able to talk to Harry about it.  
"I know nothing about art. These paintings came with the house so I kept them." I explain, wondering why on earth I feel so embarassed about this. Maybe because I want to impress Harry, I don't want him to think that my life is just football and party. I want him to think that there's more to me, even though there isn't. In fact, thinking about it now, I realise that I'm really quite boring....  
"I thought as much. You know, there are quite a few museums in London. You should have a look at them." he suggests, a grin on his face because he knows that I'd never agree to going to a museum. But he's wrong.  
"If you take me, sure." He looks just as surprised as I feel at my compliance, but the pleased smile on his face makes it worth it. I can feel myself blushing so I quickly change the topic to something more comfortable than art and me wanting to be more interesting for him.  
"So, did you order the pizza?" Food, food is always good; comfortable topic. Harry nods, making his curls bounce and I have to fight the urge to run my fingers through them. Not yet, Tommo.  
"Yeah, I did." I laugh out loud at the grimace he pulls, Harry and his love for healthy food. We really couldn't be more different, but maybe that's why he appeals to me so much. They say that opposites attract, don't they? And fuck, I'm definitely attracted.  
"Cool. What shall we do until the pizza arrives?" I ask, not quite able to keep the hopeful suggestive undertone out of my voice. Harry shrugs, suddenly seeming nervous.  
"We could play Fifa," I suggest, knowing full well that it's extremely out of his box, and I'm rewarded with his beautiful laugh.  
"Hell no, Louis. That wouldn't be a lot of fun for you, I'd be too bad."  
"Why, Mr. Styles, is there something you can't do?" I feign surprise.  
"I've never played before, so yes, seems like there is something I can't do." This time I don't have to act my surprise. I gasp. He's never played Fifa? How does one get 26 years old without ever playing Fifa?  
"You've never played before?" I still can't believe it. Fifa is my life. Outside of real football, of course.  
"Nope." Harry shakes his head, and, raising his hand in surrender, smiles apologetically.  
"We have to change that. Let's make a deal. I let you take me to a museum of your choice and in return you play Fifa with me?"  
He ponders over my words for a moment, his long index finger rhytmically stroking over his bottom lip. Oh, that lip...  
"Okay, deal." He flashes me his heart-stoppingly handsome smile, dimples on full display, and I stop breathing for a moment. I'm so mesmerized that I almost miss him holding his hand out for me to shake. Almost. I grab his hand, his long, warm fingers wrapping around my much smaller ones, and again I am amazed by how large his hands are. They're huge! Eyeing his long, graceful fingers I can't help but imagine the things these fingers could do to me...  
"Are my hands that interesting?" I blush crimson, knowing that he caught me staring. Fuck.  
"They're huge," I mumble, unable to look into his eyes. If he only knew what the thought of these fingers on me, in me, does to me...  
"Are they?" releasing my hand he holds both of his up, studying them, his typical frown on his face.  
"Hell yes, they are!" I yell. Holding my own hands up I place them against his and try to ignore the electricity that shoots through me as soon as our palms touch. My hands are about half the size of his.  
"Oh, well. Maybe your hands are just small." He chuckles, but there is something else in his eyes. Admiration, maybe? Shaking my head I give him my best Tommo pout. I hate it when people joke about my size, but somehow, when he does it, it's alright.  
"Nope, they're not small. Yours are just huge." I insist, watching as his eyes flicker down to my lips and before I know what's happening I am trapped between him and the couch, his arms locked tightly around my waist while his lips attack mine, taking no prisoners. Holy fuck. I barely have any time to respond before the doorbell rings, causing Harry to release me with his signature smirk, clearly amused by my reaction to him. Yeah, I'm panting like I just ran a fucking marathon, so?  
"That would be the pizza."  
"Already?" I wonder, throwing a glance at the clock. He can't have ordered it more than 20 minutes ago. They're usually not that fast.  
"I might have told them to hurry up." he admits, throwing me a knowing smile over his shoulder while heading towards my front door. I hastily follow him.  
"What? Why?" He told them to be faster?  
"Well, you said you were hungry." Harry shrugs nonchalantly but I can see a spark of embarassment in his eyes and my heart swells. He was worried about me being hungry? Fuck, is it possible that he's just as whipped as me already?  
After a moment of bickering over who is paying for the pizza - I win because it's my house, and because I win hands down every time - we finally settle on the couch, both of us with a plate full of pizza on our laps.  
"Okay, now, Mr Styles. Let me introduce you to one of my favourite activities - watching TV and eating pizza." He groans, pretending to be annoyed but the way he devours his pizza faster than me speaks for itself, and I smile gleefully. Jep, maybe we can introduce each other to some new things after all.

"What even is this shit?" Harry wonders, his eyes set on the TV where CBB is playing.  
"It's Celebrity Big Brother, it's so funny." And then I launch into a full description of the show, telling Harry about the concept and each of the characters, until his soft chuckle finally interrupts me.  
"What?" But he shakes his head, smiling widely.  
"Nothing, Louis. It's cute that you're so passionate about this stupid show." Cute? Me? I'm gonna give him cute.  
"It's not a stupid show. And I'm not cute." I insist, making him chuckle again. God, I love that sound.  
"Yes, yes it is and yes, you are." He murmurs, sounding almost breathless, and when I look over at him the dark glow in his eyes makes me suck in a sharp breath.  
"You're the cute one, not me." I whisper, subconciously leaning closer to him. "Mr. Cute and Deadly." And then I can't take it anymore, I just have to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him all day, ever since our very heated encounter in the changing room. It was magic, and I want to know it that was just a flash in the pan or if it happens again, this spark inside of me.  
But as soon as our lips meet I know that I shouldn't have worried. It's there again, this intense electric feeling that makes my heart beat faster and my head spin. There is just something between us, a connection that words can't describe, and so I reach for the remote to mute the TV before losing myself in him, in the feeling of his strong arms around my waist and his tongue in my mouth.

_____________________

"See, I told you watching TV was nice." I state, making him laugh out loud.  
"The only nice thing was when you finally turned that damn thing off and gave me your full attention."  
"Well, say what you want but you can't make out while reading a book, that's a fact."  
"But books are so much more stimulating than this mindless TV." This time he's the one pouting and it's like my eyes are glued to his full bottom lip, I can't seem to take them away from it.  
"More stimulating than this?" I whisper, leaning closer to him to run my lips from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw, gently running the tip of my tongue through the light stubble there. He groans.  
"Or this..." I tease, letting my lips travel down to his neck, sucking and biting gently but I'm careful not to leave any marks. Tilting his head to the side he allows me the full access to his neck and I don't waste a second. I keep sucking and biting and licking, my tongue and lips exploring his soft skin until I find that spot that makes him moan out loud, just above his collarbone where his neck meets his chest.  
"Found it." I smile triumphantly and move my lips down to the same spot again, teasing him.  
"Shit, Louis..." Suddenly he moves, his hands gripping my wrists tightly and, moving my arms over my head, he throws me onto the couch, pinning me down beneath his body. Holy shit. I am helpless, absolutely at his mercy and fuck, this is hot.  
"You are a little tease, Louis Tomlinson." His whispered words run down my spine like a shiver, leaving me panting and he hasn't even touched me yet. I manage a grunt in response, too caught up in that dark look in his eyes.  
"What are we going to do about that?" he questions, grinning wildly. He moves his lips down to my neck, torturing me just like I tortured him and I am lost, lost in his lips on my skin, in his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh on my neck, lost in his tongue circling my most responsive spot. Fuck.  
"I...I don't know," I breathe, barely able to keep my eyes open. It just feels too good and he's only kissing my neck. How the hell is my treaterous body going to react when...  
"Well, I think I might have an idea..." Gripping both of my hands with one of his he lets the other travel down my body, down my throat, over my sternum to my stomach where he fists the fabric of my shirt and I moan in frustration, disappointed that he doesn't let his hand travel down further. But then he kisses me again, easing my disappointment. Our tongues meet before our lips do and soon we're all tongues and lips and breathless gasps while he runs his hand under my shirt, carefully stroking the skin on my hip, teasing me while I lay here, helpless and breathless but so incredibly turned on. I need some kind of touch, some friction, I can't let him hold all the control. So I shift my hips, lifting them upwards to meet his, causing him to gasp out loud into my mouth. Hell yes.  
"Louis..." he breathes, trying to pin my hips down with his free hand but I don't let him. No, you don't Styles. This is a game two can play. So I continue to rock my hips against him, the feeling of his growing erection against mine is completely unfamiliar to me as I've never been with a man before but shit, it feels good. So good. And so I continue and he surrenders with a low moan, pressing his lips to mine again...

I lie wrapped up in his arms, my head on his chest and our legs tangled, a satisfied smile on my swollen lips. I'm way too warm in my hoodie and sweatpants but I don't want to move, ever. I'm too content to be here, laying on my couch with him after a fucking amazing make out session. Hmm, yes, that was good.  
"See, TV wins." I smirk, gazing up at him through my lashes. He just laughs, the sound resonating through my chest until it hits a spot right inside of my heart, and pulls me even closer so that there is literally no space left between us. Sighing in content I close my eyes and drift off to sleep in his arms with the sound of his soft, steady breathing in my ear.


	9. Chapter 9

I blink sleepily, expecting to look up at the white ceiling of my bedroom but instead the ceiling is wooden. What the hell. Where am I? I sit up, the thick woollen blanket falling down to my hips. The living room. Shit, yes. Harry...the kiss...making out...falling asleep on the couch together...I don't remember getting the blanket. Looking at it now I realize that it's one from the closet upstairs, harry must've gotten it for me. The thought of harry wandering around my house looking for a blanket for me makes me smile contently, and my heart expands a little. But where is he? Letting my glance swipe around the living room I realize that I am indeed alone. Trying to ignore the stab in my chest I hastily scramble to my feet. He has to be here, he just has to. He wouldn't just leave would he? Not after everything that happened yesterday.  
I hurry over to the kitchen, hoping to find him in there but the room is empty, just like the hallway. Maybe he's in the bathroom? I check every single one of my three bathrooms, the panic rising in my chest with every room I find empty. No no no. He has to be here. If he left...after all that happened yesterday, after I got my hopes up so high...I don't know what I'd do if he left. I check the four bedrooms in my house, empty. The billiard room, empty. Fucking hell, Harry. Please.  
There's only one room left, my bedroom. I hesitate before entering it, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, shaking fingers slowly opening the door. It's empty. He left. Letting out a deep breath I lean against the wall next to the door, too weak to stand by myself. He really left. Why? Did he not enjoy it like I did? Did he go back to wanting a 'business relationship'? But why now, why let yesterday happen when he doesn't want me? I think back to it, his contend smile when he held me close and fell asleep on the couch with me in his arms... Was it all just a show, an act? No, somehow I doubt that. But then why did he leave?   
A gush of cold air hits me, messing my fringe up further but I welcome it, I welcome the shiver and the goosebumps on my skin because it distracts me, distracts me from the warmth I felt with Harry wrapped around me last night, his curls tickling my neck but God, I never would've moved...  
Wait. Cold air? How...then it hits me. The balcony! Of course, why didn't I think about this earlier! Sprinting across the room I peek through the large glass door that leads out onto the balcony that I hardly ever use, and my heart stutters. He's here, leaning over the railing, probably admiring the phenomenal view over London that Hampstead allows, it's large skyscrapers looming over the city in the distance. Or maybe he's thinking about us, this entire thing can't be easy for him either. But I know that if I let him think too much, he'll probably come to the conclusion that I'm not worth risking his job for and then he'll leave and I can't let that happen, so I quickly open the door as quietly as I can and step out into the cool morning air. I know that he heard me, the way his shoulders tense proves as much but he doesn't react to my presence in any other way, he just keeps staring ahead and my heart sinks. I walk over to him but stop a few feet away when he still doesn't turn around, doesn't acknowledge me, and fear surges through me. Is this his way of saying that he doesn't want me here? My fingers twitch, itching to touch him, to let them slide over his broad shoulders to his hips so I do just that. Fuck it. If he sends me away then so it be, but I'm not going to give up without a fight. Stepping right behind him so our bodies couldn't be any closer I wrap my arms around his waist from behind and lean my head against his back, kissing his shoulder through his t shirt every now and then. He tenses but doesn't push me away; I have to take that as a good sign.  
"Harry, please don't over-think." I beg, and he sighs.  
"Louis, I..." Shit, he's going to send me away, he's going to tell me that we can't be together and that there's no future for us, I know it. And in my panicked state I start rambling, the words just falling from my mouth like s waterfall while I hold him close, refusing to let him go just yet. "No, Harry, please. Yesterday...yesterday was so good and I want this, I really want this. Please don't send me away, not now, not after I got a taste of how it could be." Holding my breath I lean my cheek against his back again, hearing his deep, even breaths, maybe a bit too even. He's trying to stay calm.   
Turning around in my embrace he faces me, and despite the sadness in his eyes I feel new hope surging through me when he rests his large hands on my hips, finally holding me close to him.  
"Oh, Louis. But how could it be? We'd have to hide, every single day. We'd never be able to go out and just be ourselves." And when I look into his troubled, clouded eyes something inside of me breaks, and I drop my head in defeat, staring at my feet. I'm not enough for him, of course not. I'm not worth the risk. How could I ever think that someone like him would fall for someone like me?  
"And I'm not worth that. I knew it. I'm sorry, I know I'm not smart or funny or intellectual. I'm sorry that I don't know anything about art and cooking and that I'd rather spend the entire even in front of the TV than go to the theatre. You're this...this bright sophisticated sun and I'm just a low, distant star and I should've known right from the start that you'd never find me as fascinating as I find you..." He gently places a finger underneath my chin and lifts my head, forcing me to look up at him to see him frantically shaking his head, a deep frown on his face.  
"Louis, what are you talking about? This is bullshit. You got that the wrong way around, you're the sun and I'm not worthy. You've got a huge heart and you're funny and witty and smart and challenging and I love it. I wouldn't have you any other way, Louis Tomlinson." A small, wistful smile tugs at his lips and my heart expands a little, but my mind is still so confused.   
"Then why..."  
"This is about you, Louis." he explains, sincere eyes burning into my own. "I know what you like. You like going out and being wild and having fun and you deserve a partner who will do just that with you, not one that can't take you out because our relationship isn't allowed to get public. Not one who hides behind books and spends his days in art galleries. You're such a free spirit Louis, I don't want to cage you."   
"You, caging me?" I laugh, a breathless, disbelieving laugh. How can he think this? "Harry, you're not caging me. Just talking to you about art yesterday made me want to go to a museum, to look at paintings and discuss them with you. You...you make me want to expand my horizons. You make me think that there's more to life than mindless parties and football." So it seems like we both have the same insecurities of not being enough for the other, of being too boring. This gives me hope, to know that I'm not the only one overwhelmed by the other's presence. Maybe we can find a middle ground and work towards showing the other parts of our lives that we love while getting to know parts of the other's life too?  
"I never expected this, to have duty and...desire clash in a way they do now and it confuses me, Louis. But I want you."  
“Even though it is full of risks?” I dare to ask, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of my voice. Please say yes. Please.  
“I usually don't like taking risks, you know. I'm not a gambling man. I like my calm, collected life. But with you...I might be willing to try.” A huge smile splits my face in half and I can't help but throw my arms around his neck, laughing breathlessly. Thank god.  
“But we have to be careful, Louis.” He warns, his face still troubled.  
“I know. Careful is like my second name.” The look on his face clearly signals that he very much doubts that, making me laugh. After a heartbeat, he joins my laughter, the deep sound resonating through the small space left between our bodies and I frown, hating that space. I want to be closer to him. As if sensing my thoughts he ducks his head down, bending his long body a bit until our lips meet in a heated, passionate kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, taking everything I have to give. Groaning he flips us around so I'm captured between the railing and his body and I gasp, taken by surprise by his sudden movement. Smirking he releases my waist and tangles one of his hands into my fringe, pulling my head to the side so he has access to my neck and then he attacks me, sucking and nibbling and kissing his way down from my jaw to my collarbones, leaving me a writhing and panting mess. God, the effect this man has to me. Dazed and absolutely transfixed by the feeling of his lips on my skin I just stand there, unable to move, totally occupied with trying to absorb the pleasure that floods through me. He's relentless, teasing and sucking my skin while his hands rub delicious circles into the skin on my hipbones, just above the waistband of my sweatpants, exposed due to him pushing up my hoodie. Oh my. I let my eyes flutter close, enjoying the moment, getting lost in his lips and hands...until my stomach grumbles loudly, causing Harry to stop his delicious torture and laugh out loud.   
“Someone's hungry, hm?” I smile up at him, feeling a fine blush coat my cheeks and get momentarily distracted by his swollen, pink lips. Fuck, they're so pink. And to think what these lips could do to me...  
“Very.” And not just for food, I add in my thoughts but I don't dare say it out loud. Lifting myself onto my tippy toes so I'm about the same height as him I press another last, lingering kiss to his enticing lips and then head back inside, leaving him standing on the balcony shaking his head in amusement, all dishevelled hair and rumpled clothes. Delicious. 

I stand in the kitchen, staring into my almost empty fridge when Harry joins me.  
“I think we'll have to go to the supermarket before we can have breakfast.” I admit, feeling oddly embarrassed.   
“You don't have food in here?” Harry asks, eyes wide with surprise and I shrug, nibbling on my bottom lip.   
“I usually don't need it. I either sleep so late that I don't need breakfast or I go out to eat, Dunkin Donuts or some Café around the corner. The Tommo lifestyle, you know.”  
“Right.” He smiles, dimples popping and my heart starts beating faster. Christ, just his smile has me responding like a fucking hormonal teenager.   
“I'll just go out and get some stuff okay? You can stay here if you want to.” I walk into the hallway to grab my wallet from the dresser when a hand on my arm stops me. Looking up I'm met with Harry’s sincere green eyes.  
“No, I'll go. You stay here.”  
“Harry, it's my house. Of course I'm responsible for getting the food.”  
“Louis, please. Let me go. There's gonna be a lot of people out there, I don't want you taking any risks.” Risks? What the hell is he talking about?  
“I go to that supermarket every day Harry, there are no risks. Don't be over-dramatic.” His face falls. Crap.  
“I'm not being over-dramatic, I'm doing my job. Please, let me get the food. Besides, I'm going to make my infamous pancakes, you wouldn't know all the ingredients to get.” Pancakes? My growing irritation evaporates at the thought of Harry making pancakes in my kitchen, with dough on his chin and flour in his hair...Shit.  
“Pancakes? Okay then, you got me. Though we could go together?” I suggest, smiling at the idea of Harry and me strolling through the isles of the supermarket like a proper couple. Not that that's what we are, because we are... I don't know actually. We're just a footballer and his bodyguard that like to make out from time to time. Nice label.  
I'm met with Harry's indulgent smile. “No, Louis, we can't go together. Going grocery shopping isn't really what bodyguards and their clients do. We have to hide, remember.” There goes my good mood.   
“Yeah, I know Mr. Secret Service. Okay then, the supermarket is just down the road, I'm sure you'll find it.”   
“I'll be right back. And Louis? Don't sulk.” Leaning forward he presses a quick kiss to my forehead and then he's out of the door.

I watch in amazement as Harry lifts the two bags he brought back onto the kitchen counter, his biceps popping and my mouth goes dry. Jesus.   
“Uhm, can I help you with anything?” I manage to ask once I manage to drag my eyes away from those muscles and my brain switches back on.   
“Yeah, you could just unpack the bags while I take off my shoes, I don't know where you want all that stuff to go. But leave the flour, sugar, eggs, milk and butter on the counter please.” Okay, flour, sugar, eggs...shit. What else did he say? How do you even make pancakes? Crap, I have no idea. Harry saunters back into the room and smirks at me, clearly aware of my confused state.   
“You really have no idea about cooking do you?” This obviously amuses him, that I'm absolutely clueless. You just laugh, Styles.  
“No. Give me balls and I can do miracles with them but in the kitchen?” Harry's face shifts, his eyes darkening and his smirk deepening and I gasp, realising how that just sounded.   
“Oh, shit no. I meant footballs. Not...you know.” Not saying anything Harry just opens the fridge to get the milk that I put in there back out, the smirk still oh so prominent on his face and I wish I could just disappear into a cloud of smoke. Please?  
He begins to gather all the ingredients he needs for his pancakes, weighing the flour and measuring the milk with skilled hands, never looking at any recipe.   
“Do you know this recipe by heart?” I wonder, making Harry snort.   
“There's not really a recipe to go by. Making pancakes is pretty much the easiest thing in the world, Louis.” Oh, okay. Sure, I knew that.   
“Okay then, if it's so easy I'm sure I can help. What can I do?”   
“You could whisk while I pour in the milk.” Okay, whisking. I can do that. I hesitantly grab the whisk that is lying on the counter and put it into the bowl, then start swirling it around aimlessly.  
Harry just watches, smiling to himself and shaking his head at my horrendous attempts at whisking until I finally give up and put the whisk down.  
“Okay okay. How do you whisk?” Harry's face softens, his eyes glowing warmly as he puts the milk down. Leaning over he places his hand over mine, his large fingers cupping my much shorter ones and I stop breathing. He's so close, his smell engulfing me, his warmth seeping into me...  
“You need to move your hand a bit faster. Quick, fast movements.” Oh fucking hell, why do I feel like we're not talking about whisking anymore? I swallow harshly, my hand going completely limp under his while he moves the whisk, effectively mixing all the ingredients together but I zone out and instead choose to focus on his face. He's biting his lip in concentration, his teeth leaving indentions in his soft, plump bottom lip and I subconsciously raise my free hand to trace my own bottom lip, remembering the feeling of our lips together... Releasing my hand Harry throws some more ingredients into the bowl, his long graceful fingers effortlessly wrapping around the entire span of the bowl as he starts pouring the dough into the pan and I can't help but stand still and stare, once again mesmerized by his elegance and beauty. Lifting one of his hands to his face he lets his index finger trace the outline of his lips, those lips...before dropping his hand again and drumming his fingers over his thigh while meeting my gaze every now and then, a mischievous amusement in his eyes. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, that he has me transfixed like a mouse facing a cobra, that I can't help but imagine these fingers on my skin, touching me...Fuck, I'm frustrated. So when he asks me to set the table I sense that this is my chance to join his game and I sigh inwardly, wishing I was wearing something more alluring than just sweatpants and a hoodie...Stretching to get the plates from the highest cupboard until my hoodie rises up, revealing some of the skin on my lower stomach, I see him pause for a moment with the bowl still in his hand, his eyes on my body, and I know that my plan is working. Bring it on, Mr. Styles. So I keep taunting him, stretching out over the table to put the plates down while making sure that my butt is right in front of him, brushing my hands over his back when I reach for the cutlery, letting my hip bump against his when I reach for some glasses...and every single time he stops dead in his tracks, his movements halting for a split second. Hmm.  
“I know what you're doing, Louis.” Oh, do you now, Styles?   
“I'm setting the table, just like you asked.” I reply innocently, smiling up at him through my lashes and something in his face shifts, his eyes becoming darker. Holy fuck.   
In one swift movement he puts the plate full of pancakes down on the table and turns back around to face me, his hands moving to capture both of my wrists, and then he starts walking us backwards until my back hits the fridge, knocking all the air out of my lungs. Whoa.  
“Are you teasing me, Mr. Tomlinson?” He demands, his face just inches away from mine, his blazing eyes burning into my own and I'm lost, absolutely lost.  
“Yes,” I breathe, my mind unable to come up with a witty response. There's no space in my head for anything but him and his proximity.  
“And do you think that's polite?” Leaning even closer he runs his nose along mine, his lips lightly brushing my cheek as he does so and I gasp.  
“No.”   
“Me neither. So what are we going to do to you?” Do to me? Oh my. Why is this so hot, him pinning me against the wall, towering over me with that dark, smouldering look on his face...  
“I could think of a few things...” I dare to reply, peeking up at him and deliberately biting my lip.  
“Hmm. Things like this?” Releasing one of my wrists he trails his hand over my chest up to my neck, holding my head firmly in place.   
“Or more like this...” Leaning down to my height he gently bites my bottom lip, pulling slightly and my knees nearly give in. Holy hell.  
“Fuck, Harry...” I breathe and involuntarily buck my hips forwards until they meet his, and I start grinding against him, gasping at the delicious friction and Harry groans, a raw, desperate sound that liquefies my insides as he lifts his hips to meet mine, our tongues clashing and our lips entangling as we get let this magnetism between us take over and get lost in each other again.  
Well, I suppose cold pancakes taste just as good as warm ones...


	10. Chapter 10

Life's good.   
It's been two weeks ever since our conversation about our doubts and fears and even though it's still hard sometimes I've never felt as comfortable around someone as I do around him.  
We haven't been able to spend as much time together in private as I would've liked since we're both still figuring out the east ways to see each other without anyone noticing, so to say that I'm excited about tonight is an understatement. Sure, we won't be alone but still, I'll be with him, next to him, I'll get to hear his voice when he tells me what he likes about that one painting and what he doesn't like about the other...yes, I'm definitely looking forward to tonight.

"Lou?" Toms voice comes from the entrance area to the stadium and seconds later he cocks his head around the corner, confused. "Harry is here to pick you up?" And just like that, my heart involuntarily starts beating at doubled speed because yes, that's what just knowing that he's in the same building as me does to me. Pathetic, I know, but what can I do.   
"Uhm, right. Can you tell him that I'm gonna shower at lighting speed and then meet him at his car?" I ask, already pulling my jersey over my head because I don't want to keep him waiting too long. That and I'm desperately longing to see him, but we're not going to admit that are we. Nope.   
"Yeah, sure, I'll tell him."   
"Thanks Tom!" I yell over my head, already running down the hallway towards the showers. As promised, I shower at lightning speed and quickly jump into the black jeans and bordeaux shirt that I brought along, my blazer slipped over my arm. I know Harry is not going to take me to some fancy museum or anything but I still wanted to look nice, is that a crime? I'm still wearing my usual vans, so it's not that out of my box. I hurry down the hallways as quietly as possible, not wanting people to ask about my quite unusual attire. Normally I just go home in sweatpants and a hoodie.  
"You going somewhere special tonight Tommo?" Toms voice stops me dead in my tracks and I curse quietly, knowing that Tom of all people will ask the most questions. Dammit, why does his office have to be on the way out? Bloody shit. What do I say now? I try to come up with some believable lie but all my mind can think is Harry Harry Harry, so I give up and just opt for the truth.  
"Uhm, a museum." I watch in annoyed bemusement as Toms jaw basically hits the floor and his eyes widen at my response. Yeah, okay, I get it. I don't usually go to museums. Ever. Even when I was still in school I always came up with some shitty excuses to wiggle my way out of any museum or theatre visits. I even let my non-existent cat die a few times until miss Jacobs, my English teacher, finally asked my mum how many cats we actually have since they seem to be dying in such rapid succession. Luckily my mum went with my lie, I still got grounded for two weeks though.   
"Need help picking your jaw up from the floor mate?" I wonder, making Tom blush.  
"Sorry man. It's just, you? In a museum? What the hell happened?" Harry happened. But of course I can't tell Tom so I just shrug, trying to appear casual.  
"I don't know, nothing specific really. One of my, uh, sisters is thinking about studying art so I thought I should have a look at some stuff to try and figure out why she finds it so fascinating." The lie slips smoothly from my lips and I hold Toms scrutinizing gaze without batting an eyelash.  
"And why are you bringing poor Harry along?" Good question, why? Maybe because he's the only reason for which I'm willing to do this shit?   
"The museum is in Central London, paps might be around. Besides, Harry likes art." I explain, immediately biting my tongue after that last bit. Fuck, please don't ask me why I know that, Thomas, please, I pray, hoping that Tom didn't notice. Why would I know that my bodyguard likes art? Luckily Tom doesn't comment on it, he just wishes me a fun time and turns back towards his computer, undoubtedly looking for new footballers to join our team.   
Breathing out a sigh of relief I finally exit the building and force myself to take slow, steady steps towards the car park, even when I spot Harry's black Range Rover. I must not run like an overly excited 12 year old.   
But with every step I take my excitement grows, not necessarily because of the museum but because I'll get to spend time with Harry.   
I open the door to his car with a rapidly beating heart and immediately drink him in while I sink into the soft leather seats - he looks amazing. His long curls are held back by a pair of aviators and when I spot the tattoos visible underneath his plain white tshirt my mouth goes dry.   
"Hello, Louis."   
"Hi..." I breathe, gazing up at him like he gazes at me, a small warm smile on his lips. Then, quickly scanning the area to make sure that we're alone he leans forwards and lifts his hand to my face, brushing my still wet fringe off my forehead. His touch is light and soft, and I swear that my heart stops beating for as long as it lasts.   
"Your hair is still wet," he murmurs slightly disapprovingly while he backs out of the parking lot and I shrug.   
"Didn't want to keep you waiting."  
"Right, showering at lightning speed hm?" he questions, smirking to himself while waiting for the traffic to clear.  
"Exactly. I have to say I'm pretty amazed by myself, it really was lightning speed. You may call me the Super Tommo tonight." I smirk proudly when his deep laughter fills the car and let my eyes travel down his body, desire bubbling within me. I want to touch him. And hell, we're in a car with tinted glasses and we're moving, nobody can look inside so why the heck shouldn't I?   
So I carefully place my hand on his leg, my thumb stroking up and down his thigh in small motions and Harry freezes, his eyes flickering down to me in surprise. I just smile back at him calmly, silently willing him to just relax and accept my touch. And much to my relief he does. For a moment I thought he'd push my hand away but instead he just returns his attention to the traffic, a small smile tugging at his lips and I grin happily while staring out of the window, my hand still on his thigh. A moment later I feel the weight of another hand on mine, his much larger one covering mine completely, and when I look over at him in surprise he just stares ahead with an impassive mask on, seemingly focused on the traffic, but if I'm not completely mistaken I can see the hint of the infamous Harry Styles Smirk forming on his lips.

"What the fuck is this?" I exclaim, staring at the painting in front of me in pure horror.   
"This, Louis," Harry's deep voice comes from behind me, "is 'Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time'. By Bronzino."  
"Bronzo what?" I turn around to stare at Harry, having absolutely no clue what he just said. He smiles down at me indulgently, thankfully not annoyed by my absolute lack of knowledge.  
"Bronzino, a Florentine artist, 16th century." Ah, okay, well whatever.   
"And he called his painting Venus, Time, Fury and what was the other thing?" Why the hell would you give your painting such a horrid title?   
"Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time, Louis." Oh, oops. Almost got it right.  
"Well, whatever. That name is hideous, why would you give your painting such a horrible title? And why on earth are they all naked?" Even the kids, and it looked like the grown woman in the middle is kissing a child...ew. Why would you paint something like this?  
"Back then most people were naked in paintings, it was normal in the Italian school." Harry explains, obviously fascinated by the painting in front of us.   
"And nowadays everyone freaks out as soon as your shorts are a bit too short or your shirt is cut too low. Funny how things change, hm?" Harry just hums his agreement and then let's me pull him towards another painting, a portrait of a man by someone called van Eyck. Looking up I eye the painting and immediately burst into a fit of giggles. Pressing my hand to my mouth I try to keep them in but it's useless, my entire body starts shaking with laughter. I glance up at harry apologetically but he just smiles, a soft look in his eyes and my heart melts.   
"Something amusing you, Mr. Tomlinson?" he questions stepping next to me, so close that our arms are almost touching and I can feel his warmth radiating off him. Hmm.  
"He looks like he's pissed off because his son didn't eat his vegetables." I giggle again, then lower my voice to a deep grumble. "Harold, eat your vegetables. Harold, please. Eat your broccoli or you'll get grounded for two weeks."   
Harry just stares at me incredulously, obviously horrified that I'm making fun of an honourable painting like this, but then his mouth twists and I know he's not mad. He then bursts into laughter, the lovely sound booming through the small room earning us a few annoyed glances but before Harry can notice I pull him towards the next room, hugging myself with glee because I made him laugh, again. His laugh is such a lovely, deep sound and I'd do anything, anything to hear it. And I love how he crinkles his nose and his eyes and he throws his head back while his body shakes with laughter, his eyes sparkling and in this moment I swear he's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. All the other art around us completely falls away, becomes meaningless as I realise that no colour compares to the one of his eyes, that no painting could ever be as beautiful as this man.

"Landscape, I think this might suit you a bit better." Harry exclaims once he's calmed down and then he grabs my arm and leads me towards a room across the hall. I immediately feel more comfortable here, no naked people or grim old men, just landscape. I have to admit that I quite like a few paintings in here, some of them are amazing. Harry obviously thinks so too as he gets lost in them, but soon I catch myself watching him rather than the actual paintings. I love seeing him like this, so fascinated and relaxed, clearly forgetting about his bodyguard duties for once. His eyes are shining and wide with awe, his mouth slightly agape as he takes in canvas after canvas. Some make him smile, others make him frown, and every now and then a sad, almost regretful look crosses his face that I don't quite understand. I want to ask what that is about but I stay quiet, not wanting to disturb him.  
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He turns to me with a wide smile on his face and I blush, having been caught staring at him but in his excitement he doesn't even seem to notice.   
"It is," I agree though I can't really say if I'm talking about the paintings or him. Pulling myself together I turn away from him to look at the paintings myself, and one just across the room catches my eye. I find myself walking towards it and the closer I get the more I realise that what looked like a smooth painting of a lake is actually made of hundreds and thousands of small little dots, every single brush and stroke visible on the coloured canvas.   
Feeling Harrys presence behind me I speak up, my eyes still on the painting.  
"I really like this one. It looks so smooth from further away but the closer you get the more each stroke of the brush becomes visible. It's fascinating," I admit, actually surprised by myself. Who knew that I'd ever say 'art' and 'fascinating' in the same sentence?  
"It's Monet, that's his style. He always painted like that." Harry explains, the sad undertone in his voice making me turn around.  
"My sister used to love Monet, he was her favourite artist. She studied art and would always come home to tell me about him, about how his techniques fascinated her." Harry explains with an almost pained expression on his face, his eyes wistful.   
"Used to?" I question, picking up on Harry's past tense. This could mean two things, either she doesn't like him anymore or she...  
"Used to." Harry confirms, his voice growing cold. I frown, something is definitely wrong here.  
"Harry, what..." I ask but a sharp head shake from Harry interrupts me.  
"Louis, please. Let's not talk about it, okay?" He tries to give me a reassuring smile but it doesn't reach his eyes and only worries me further. What happened to make him this sad?  
"Okay. But if you want to talk about it, I'm here. Don't forget that," I mumble, gazing up at him with sincere eyes and his smile grows a bit more genuine, his eyes softening.  
"Thank you, Louis."   
Glancing around the room I realise that we're almost alone, apart from an elderly couple that is completely engrossed in a discussion about some painting so I decide to take the chance. Pushing myself up onto my tippy toes I press a kiss to his cheek, letting my lips linger for just a moment, allowing myself to enjoy his warmth and proximity. It's so hard, so fucking hard to be standing next to him all the time without being allowed to touch him. All the time I catch myself wanting to reach out to take his hand or to brush his hair off his forehead or to kiss him but I always have to stop myself, there's too many people around. But right now, with the sad look in his eyes and the knowledge that something must've happened to his sister I just need to comfort him, I need to be close to show him that I'm here, that he's not alone. And the surprised but very pleased smile that forms on his face tells me that he got the message.  
"I mean it. You're not alone."   
Harry is rather pensive for the rest of the time we spend in the museum, obviously caught up in whatever happened and I hate it, I want to pull him out of his mood but I don't know how, I don't want to go too far. If he doesn't want to speak about it I guess I'll have to accept that, and even I am tactful enough to not bring it up again in a crowded museum.

Sculptures. Countless sculptures, mostly men, mostly naked. Harry tells me most of them are either Greek or Roman style, representing some god or hero.   
"And of course they're naked." I mumble, carefully eyeing the gloriously naked male that was carved into marble in front of me.   
"Nothing wrong with appreciating the naked male form, wouldn't you agree Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry smirks suggestively and I swallow harshly, breathing suddenly becoming difficult as I catch onto what he's saying.  
"Uhm, I guess not." I agree, blushing a deep shade of red as I imagine what he would look like naked, with his broad shoulders and slim hips and...fuck.   
Eyeing me with a dark, smoldering look Harry's smirk deepens and I feel a twist in my pants, my cock stirring in interest. Fucking hell, not now you little shit. Pressing my legs together I try to ignore the fact that I'm standing here with Harry, looking at naked male sculptures. Maybe I should think of something dark to distract me from my thoughts. How about some of my non-existent cats that all died?  
"Fascinating, isn't it?" Harry mumbles, distracting me from my thoughts. He's gazing at the sculpture in front of him and I actually find myself agreeing, but I'm not looking at the sculpture. I'm looking at the man next to me, all tousled hair and sharp jawline and plump lips and broad shoulders. He's beautiful, so much more beautiful than all these sculptures. And I finally realise that all this time, while I was looking at painting after painting, sculpture after sculpture, I didn't find them as fascinating as I could because they're nothing compared to Harry's beauty. Who needs Monet or van Eyck or Bronzo-whatever when Harry's the real piece of art here.

 

"You so owe me a round of play station for this, Styles! " I groan as we finally step out of the museum and onto Trafalgar Square and into the crowd of people that never seems to leave this place. Harry immediately snaps back into bodyguard mode, his shoulders tensing as he steps behind me, eyeing the crowd around us but nobody seems to notice us as we blend in with everyone else.  
"Oh come on Louis, it wasn't so bad was it?" he laughs, gently nudging my shoulder.  
"No, it actually wasn't." I admit reluctantly. It really wasn't as awful as I thought it would be, even though I still don't know anything about art because I was mostly watching Harry rather than the paintings.  
"Except for broccoli guy. He was creepy." I joke, hoping to make Harry laugh again. It works.  
"What now?" Harry asks, looking down at me expectantly.  
"Food?" I suggest; I'm starving. I haven't eaten after training and running around like a maniac kind of makes you hungry.  
"Okay. Anything in particular that you're craving?"   
"Nope, I'm open-minded as long as it's food. I saw a few restaurants up the road near Leicester Square..." I suggest but Harry's pained expression stops me.  
"Restaurants aren't good for us, Louis. We have to hide, remember? I'm sorry." Right, the hiding. I got so lost in being here, with him, all afternoon that I completely forgot about that. Biting my lip I stare at the ground for a moment, disappointed. I want nothing more than to be able to have dinner with him and then kiss him on Trafalgar Square as the sun sets in the distance. But no, of course we can't.  
"There's a good Chinese takeaway place just down the road. We could stop there?" Harry suggests and I just nod and start walking into the direction that he pointed at. I know I'm being childish but I can't stop the disappointment running through me. Why does it have to be so damn difficult?  
"Louis..." Grabbing my arm Harry pulls me into the shop that we're just walking past, which happens to be a Waterstones. What the hell, books? For a dreadful moment I think that he brought me in here to force me to read a book, but then he wordlessly pulls me into an empty aisle and smashes his lips onto mine. I gasp, taken aback by his sudden attack but then my body reacts immediately as my arms wrap around his neck and tangle into his curls while my tongue meets his in a wild dance. We just stand there, hidden between books, our bodies entwined, just snogging each other senseless while my brain shuts off completely until the only thing present in my mind is him, his smell, the taste of his tongue against mine, his arms on my waist as I'm finally, finally close to him. I've been craving this contact, this spark between us all day and now that it's finally happening I'm surprised that my knees don't give in at the intense electricity that shoots through me and makes my head spin.   
"Don't be mad, Louis, please. It's for the best," Harry breathlessly reminds me when we finally pull apart.  
"I know. But it sucks," I pout, making Harry chuckle.  
"I know." I can't help but stare at his lips, those incredibly pink, slightly swollen lips and desire explodes in me again, causing me to reach up to him to kiss him again, hidden away in the safety of the bookshelves.   
"Let's get some food, I can't let you starve can I," Harry smiles when we separate for the second time and then leads me out of the store, both of us with big stupid grind on our faces.

I sit cross-legged in his Range Rover, a plastic box of Chinese takeaway on my lap while Harry sits next to me, eating his own food.   
"Oh my god this is heaven." I groan, stuffing more duck into my mouth. There's no good Chinese place close to where I live so it's been a while since I've last eaten Chinese, what a mistake. This stuff is good, really good.  
"Told you it's a good place." Harry smirks, obviously proud of himself.   
"Yeah yeah, Styles, you rule." I agree sarcastically and then focus on basically inhaling my food until there's absolutely nothing left of it.   
"Holy fuck, I'm so full. I don't think I can move ever again in my life." Leaning back in the seat I pat my belly, sighing in satisfaction.   
"I'll roll you up the stairs to your house then." Harry jokes and opens the door to throw our boxes away.   
"Home?" he asks, looking at me expectantly. I nod, blinking sleepily. Training was hard today, and with a full stomach fatigue starts to settle in.   
"Your wish is my command." He reaches for the key to start the car but I have other plans. Grabbing his hand to stop him I pull him towards me until our mouths meet again. He tastes of soy sauce and spring rolls and I fucking love it, the way his lips fit perfectly between mine and our tongues seem to be moving in absolute sync. Kissing him is so easy, like its the most natural thing in the world. His kisses are home, and I know that I'm beginning to fall way too fast and way too hard but what can I do against this man with ridiculously pink lips and curly hair?   
Speaking about curly hair, one of my hands reaches into his curls, tugging roughly, causing him to release a moan deep inside his throat. Oh god.   
"Louis..." he whispers but I cut him off with another kiss, searing my lips over his again. I don't want him to speak, not now.   
"Louis, please." he tries again, his lips brushing against my own and I decide to attack his neck instead, sucking and biting at his skin, smirking proudly when he struggles to form a coherent sentence.  
"Public parking lot..." he pants, "Not safe." But the way he moves his head to the side to allow me more access betrays his words, and I know that I've won this war.   
"Oh, fuck", he groans and then moves so quickly that I barely have time to react, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck as he hauls me in for another kiss, his lips meeting mine almost bruisingly hard but I don't complain, in fact I want more. More of his lips, more of him. Always more.   
When we finally pull apart to catch our breath we're both panting loudly, both of our swollen lips carved up in satisfied smiles.  
"Let's get you home now or else we won't make it out of this parking lot tonight." Harry muses, and when I let my eyes travel over his body to notice the not so subtle bulge straining against his jeans I think that maybe, just maybe, he wants more just as much as I do.

"Oh fucking hell," I curse when I spot the group of photographers in front of my house.  
"Well, that's gonna be fun, I'll walk you in then." Harry announces and my heart sinks. With all the paps outside it means that he won't be able to stay because they'd notice if he would. Fucking paps. Can't they get a proper job?   
They hurry aside, making space for Harry's car while preparing their cameras, and as soon as I open my door I hear them shouting at me. Harry is by my side in a flash, his arm protectively laced through mine as he leads me through the crowd.  
"Mr. Tomlinson!"  
"Louis! Louis, here!"  
"Louis, a smile for the camera please!"   
"Ignore them," Harry mumbles, his deep voice reaching my ears despite the shouting and I nod, thankfully squeezing his arm. But then a new voice speaks up, saying something that I just can't ignore.  
"How was the museum Mr. Tomlinson? Did you finally realize that getting shitfaced and fucking girls isn't everything in life?" I stop dead in my tracks, ignoring Harry who tries to pull me away from the young man that smirks at me, his camera directed at me.  
"Louis, come on." Harry begs, pulling at my arm but I ignore him and instead answer the paparazzi.  
"I did, actually." I agree, seeing a surprised look cross the mans face. He clearly didn't expect such a calm agreement.  
"Oh, really? Did you have a moment of awareness?" he mocks but I just shrug, completely taken aback by my calm behaviour. Normally I'd scream at him and threaten him but today, I simply feel like explaining myself properly.   
"Sometimes you meet people that make you look at things differently, that make you want to try new things. And even though you've never been interested in art it suddenly becomes the most fascinating thing, simply because it's so fascinating to them." I state, And when I see Harry's eyes light up with happiness and a small smile spreading his lips, I know that every word I just said is true.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double update because I've been a dick and haven't been updating as much as I wouldve liked to. Glorious People of AO3, please forgive me. Some smut to make up for it? Hell yes. x

"Are you okay?" Harry questions once he closes the door behind me, his worried eyes travelling all over my body.   
"Yeah I'm fine, nobody touched me, thank you." I press a quick kiss to his jaw, running my tongue through his light stubble. Hmm, he tastes so good.  
"I should probably get going. They're waiting outside, if I don't get out anytime soon they'll get suspicious." he mumbles, his voice deep and raw and something inside my belly clenches deliciously.  
He doesn't mention my little declaration but the ridiculous grin that is still present on his face is proof enough that he got the hint. I've always been a man of action rather than words anyway. And looking at him now, that grin on his face, his cheeks slightly flushed and that bulge still straining against his jeans I know that I'll need some action. Now.  
"Don't go yet," I plead, moving closer to him until our chests are almost touching.   
"I have to Lou." Lou? My heart stutters almost painfully at the nickname and there's no way to stop the soppy smile on my face. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"   
"You sure you don't want me to help you out with that?" I smirk, pointing down at his crotch. Raising one of his eyebrows Harry gazes at me impassively but his eyes have darkened, the green sparkling dangerously and I swallow harshly.   
"Hmm, depends." he mumbles, a lazy smile tugging on his lips. "It is your fault, after all."   
"My fault?" I gasp, pretending to be offended.   
"Yes, your fault." he nods and slowly moves towards me where I'm standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall.   
"Then I guess this is your fault in return?" I question, pointing to my own aching erection and his smirk deepens as he stares down at it, salaciously licking his lips.   
"That, my dear Louis, is my fault, yes." Leaning down he grabs both of my hands and pins them against the wall over my head, holding me firmly in place. "Is there something you wanted me to do about it?" he grins wickedly, clearly enjoying this game as I struggle to breathe, my head spinning and he hasn't even touched me yet. How is this supposed to end?   
"Maybe," I gasp, not able to form a proper sentence with his eyes burning into my own and his body so close to mine, his erection hovering just inches over mine.  
"Maybe? And what did you have in mind?" Leaning down he runs his tongue from my collarbone, just visible through my low cut shirt, up to my jaw and begins to suck lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make my knees go weak.   
"Something like this?" slowly, oh so slowly he leans the length of his body against mine so I can feel every muscle, every sinew in his delicious body. Then he begins grinding his hips into mine so our erections rub against each other and I moan, tilting my hips up to meet his, wanting more of this delicious friction.   
"Or more like this?" Grabbing both of my wrists with one of his large hands he lets his now free hand travel down my body, over my chest and stomach down to where our hips meet, long fingers brushing over my crotch and I involuntarily buck my hips forward, wanting more than just a feathery light tough.   
"Please, Harry." I whisper, blinking up at him through my lashes, deliberately biting my lip and he groans, bending his long body to smash his lips to mine, his tongue relentlessly attacking my own, taking no prisoners. But I want more, so much more so I start grinding against him again, my cock desperately begging for attention. I'm so hard, I need some kind of relief. I need him, now. Please.  
He obviously gets the memo because he moves his hand to my crotch again, palming me through my jeans and I moan into his mouth, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his large fingers on my dick.   
"Harry. Fuck. Come on," I groan, growing frustrated and he chuckles, smiling down at me for a moment with wicked delight.   
"You want it, baby, you get it." And before I know it he quickly unbuttons my pants and slips his hand inside my boxers, pumping my shaft, up and down and up and down while his mouth greedily swallows my moans. Fuck. I've never been touched like this before, not by a man, and it's so incredibly overwhelming. His long fingers on my dick, teasing and pumping me, his own erection digging into my hip, his lips on mine...he's everywhere, all over me, in my every thought, in every cell of my body and I decide in this moment that I don't every want it any other way.   
Harry swipes his thumb over my sensitive tip, spreading the precome that has gathered there and I nearly combust then and there, groaning loudly. I can feel his grin against my lips, clearly pleased by my reaction.   
"Cmon Louis. Give it up for me." he begs, his voice raw and desperate, and when he increases the speed of his hand in time with his words I know I'm done for. I feel the building inside my stomach as I climb higher and higher, ready to explode. And when he gently squeezes my length while moving his lips to my neck I do. I explode powerfully into my boxers with a shout of his name while my entire body shivers, and if it wasn't for him holding me upright I would've collapsed straight to the floor.   
He holds me until I regain my senses and blink up at him, absolutely sated. Pulling his hand out of my boxers he licks his fingers, smirking as he hums in appreciation.  
"Delicious." he declares and I'm not even shocked at his boldness, instead I'm incredibly turned on, again. And with one look at his crotch I know that there's still unfinished business, so instead of revelling in my post coital state I launch myself at him, unbuttoned and stained pants and all, pinning him to the opposite wall.  
"Your turn." I smirk up at him.  
"Hmm. Amd what are you going to do to me now that I'm completely at your mercy, Mr. Tomlinson?" Good question. What will I do to him? I've never done any of this before, not to a man. But weirdly enough I'm not nervous, not in the slightest. I want this. I want to please him so bad, so when I look down at his still clothed erection I know what I want to do. Licking my lips I lean closer to him so my mouth is over his ear and whisper "I'm going to fuck you with my mouth, Mr. Styles."   
I feel rather than hear his sharp intake of breath and when I pull away to look at him his eyes have darkened further, his pupils so wide that the green is almost gone completely. Pressing one last kiss to his jaw I drop down to my knees in front of him and make quick work of his pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his knees so they're pooling at his ankles and he's left in just his black boxers. Very tight black boxers. Very tight black boxers that do almost nothing to hide what's underneath them. Christ.  
The cute little trail of hair on his stomach attracts my attention and I reach up to nuzzle his belly and kiss his hips, sucking and biting my way from one hipbone to the other.   
"Fuck, Louis." he groans, bucking his hips forward, his hands going to my hair.  
"Don't be so impatient, Mr. Styles." I scold him, my lips moving lightly across the skin just above the waistband of his boxers, teasing him further.  
"Louis, I swear to god..." Good to know that he's just as desperate as me.   
I decide to end his torture and slip my fingers into his boxers, pulling them down to join his jeans. Holy fuck. How am I supposed to fit all of him into my mouth? Because yes, Harry Styles definitely hasn't got a little thing. And I've never given a blowjob before. How do I even start? What do I do? But gazing up at him, at this man that means too much to me already, I know that I really want this. I want this, want to make him feel good so I'll just have to go for it. And so I do.  
Leaning forward I wrap my lips around him, taking as much as I can and I'm surprised that I can swallow almost all of him without too much discomfort, even when he hits the back of my throat. It's odd, yes, but not uncomfortable so I do it again, moving my mouth up and down, my lips wrapped tightly around his pulsing shaft.  
"Fuck, Lou, don't you have a gag reflex?" Harry groans, his grip on my hair tightening and I blink up at him, shaking my head with him still in my mouth before focusing on the task at hand again. I swirl my tongue around his tip, just doing to him what I always liked girls doing to me and it seems to be working, because when I look up at him again my heart nearly stops beating. He looks so fucking wrecked, his mouth slack and eyes clamped shut, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed...holy fuck. Harry Styles, coming undone. Because of me.   
Somehow the thought gives me new energy and I move my head faster, wanting him to completely fall apart. I move one of my hands to gently cup his balls while my mouth moves in time to the thrusts of his hips, my ears completely focused on the soft grunts and moans that fall from his lips.  
I feel his legs stiffen, a sure sign that he's close and a moment later he proves as much when he speaks up.  
"Lou, I'm...let me pull out before..." he grabs my shoulders, clearly trying to push me away but I'm not having it.  
I push his hands away, trapping them by his sides as I double the effort of my mouth on him, sucking hard over and over again.  
"Fuck, Lou..." He stills, his entire body freezing and then his hips stutter as he throws his head back and explodes into my mouth with another shout of my name. I swallow greedily, every last drop. It tastes slightly odd, a bit salty but not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I find that I quite like it. Licking my lips I drink him in again, leaning against the wall in my hallway with his pants around his ankles and love bites all over his hips like some hormonal teenager and I smile proudly, nodding in content. All my doing, and I fucking love it.   
He grabs my shoulders again and this time I let him. Pulling me up to stand he leans down and presses his mouth to mine again, a lazy and sloppy kiss, both of us too sated to put too much effort into it.  
"Now you're allowed to go." I declare once we part, running my hands through his messy hair, trying to sort it out a bit.   
"Oh, really? How accommodating of you." Pulling up his boxers and pants he notices the marks I left across his hips and shakes his head at me, an amused smile on his face.  
"Your own work of art, hm?"   
"Your body is my canvas," I agree, smiling innocently.  
"Don't give me that innocent look, Louis, I know you're a dirty boy."   
"Me? Whatever could you mean?"   
Instead of an answer he just leans down and kisses me, a soft, sweet kiss that lingers on my lips.   
"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" he asks, opening the front door.   
"Oh, and Louis?" He turns back around at me, ignoring the paparazzi that are screaming his name. "You better wash those jeans."   
I stare down at my wet crotch, slowly drying cum all over my pants and grimace. The door falls shut behind him and I weakly lean agains the wall, absolutely overwhelmed by this man and the impact he has on me.

Once again I awake to my phone ringing, and despite it being only quarter to nine I decide to pick it up and accept the call. It's Tom, great.  
"Yeah?" I mumble sleepily, wondering what on earth he could want from me at quarter to nine on a Thursday morning.  
"Louis, you're awake and actually answering your phone? Are you sick?"  
"Cut the crap Tom, what do you want?" I'm met with laughter from the other line and roll my eyes in annoyance.   
"Good to know that you're still yourself, Tommo. I thought with all this 'going to museums' and 'wearing a blazer' crap that you might have lost your edge."   
"I'm gonna show you my edge, Parker. Now why the fuck are you calling me in the middle of the night?"  
"It's almost 9, Louis."  
"Exactly what I'm saying." Another fit of laughter comes through the speaker and this time I actually find myself grinning along to it, I'm slowly waking up and I'm in a good mood.  
"Okay, so I called to remind you of the annual summer party on Friday evening." Wait, that's this Friday? Oh fuck.  
"Louis? You still there?" Tom questions when I don't answer and I hastily speak up.   
"Yeah yeah, I'm here. Uhm, I knew that."  
"You didn't, Tommo, don't lie to me. I'll text you all the details."  
"Yeah okay, thanks Tom." I agree, not even trying to deny that I indeed forgot about it. Tom knows me too well, he knows that I always forget about these things, which is probably why he called me to make sure that I'll be there.  
"No biggie. And Louis? I expect you to show up in a suit, a proper one. All of management will be there, all the high horses in British football. No mismatching pants and shirt, no jeans. A proper suit and a tie, Louis." Oh fucking hell, now I remember why I always hated these events. A suit? I don't think I still have one...  
"Oh, and Louis? You're allowed to bring another person as your guest. Are you bringing anyone?"  
"Harry." I say without hesitation and then immediately slap a hand over my mouth, cursing inwardly but Tom just laughs.  
"Your bodyguard is a given Lou, he'll be there no matter what. That's his job. No, I was talking about an actual partner." Oh thank god Tom doesn't read anything into this. I'm one lucky son of a bitch, really. Blessed with blind idiots around me.   
"Oh okay. No, I'm not bringing anyone. Who would I bring?" I demand, wondering why Tom even bothers to ask. I've never brought anyone to these gala things.   
"Don't know, you seem so happy and at ease lately, I thought you'd finally met someone." Oh, Tom, I have. But I can't tell you. And suddenly I want nothing more than to tell Tom all about harry and I, despite him being my manager Tom and I have always been very close friends. But I know that I can't tell him, if anything he's the one that I'll have to keep out of this the most.   
"Oh no, I haven't met anyone. Guess I'm just getting older and wiser ya know?" I joke, making Tom chuckle.  
"Yeah sure. Oh, I saw pap pictures today, looks like you've been swarmed by them last night. You okay?"   
"Yes, it was alright. Harry was there with me, nobody got hurt or anything. It was all easy."   
"Good that you took him with you then. Seems like a good lad, that Harry." He is, Tom, he is. Very good indeed.   
"He's not too bad." I say instead even though it hurts me physically.   
"Good. Then I'll get him to pick you up tomorrow, I'm sure he'll be in contact with you. Don't forget the suit."  
Before I can curse at him he ends the call and I throw my phone onto the bed next to me, getting frustrated. I don't want my good mood to be ruined, though, so I head towards the bathroom to take a nice warm shower.

As soon as I step out of the bathroom just with a towel slung around my hips my phone rings again. Mr. Cute and Deadly.   
"Good morning Harold." I answer it swiftly, longing to hear his voice.   
"Morning Louis. You're in a considerably good mood. How's your throat doing?"   
"Smarts a bit but I'll survive. What gives, Styles?"  
"I just wanted to ask if you have any plans for today?"  
"I do, actually. There's an annual summer party for the football club tomorrow and we're going suit shopping."   
"We?"  
"Jep, as my beloved bodyguard you'll have to make sure that I don't get attacked or break a leg while trying on various lovely suits. And who knows, maybe I'll buy you a suit too." The thought actually excites me, I'd love to see Harry in some expensive fabric that I bought for him. I bet he'd look amazing. He always does, but just knowing that I bought it for him would add a special feeling to it I think.  
"Louis, I have enough suits, thank you. But I'll gladly accompany you, as your beloved bodyguard."  
"Good. You'll also have to accompany to the event itself tomorrow night I'm afraid. Security's gonna be tight tomorrow."  
"I know, Mr. Parker called me this morning. I have to say that he wasn't all too surprised when he figured out that you never told me about this, said that you constantly forget things like this. He wanted to give you a call too." I groan our loud, annoyed that Tom talks to Harry about my misbehaviour.  
"Yeah, he did this morning, at quarter to nine, can you believe him?" I sigh, still annoyed that he woke me up but my annoyance evaporates quickly when Harry's soft laughter comes through the line.  
"And what's wrong with quarter to 9, Louis?" What's wrong with that? Is he serious?  
"That's like the middle of the night!" I exclaim dramatically, throwing my free hand into the air to underline my point even though he can't see it.  
"It's actually late for most people, Louis. You're just lazy, Tomlinson." he teases and I grin.  
"Can't deny that, can I?" I know it, he knows it, so what's the point in pretending?   
"Nope. But enough of the laziness, I'll pick you up in about an hour okay? Should give you enough time to get ready." An hour? Means I'll be leaving the house before eleven, that's never happened on a day off. I begin to protest but then I realise that the earlier we leave the more time I'll get to spend with him, and excitement rushes through me.  
"Actually, Styles, make it half an hour. I'll see you then!" I hang up to his surprised laughter and run down to the kitchen, downing a pot of coffee and a sandwich before sprinting to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair. Then I'm standing in front of my closet, frowning. What do I wear? I'm tempted to go for my usual vans and tank top but I know that I can't do that, both because I'll be going to rather expensive shops and because I want to look nice for Harry. So I pull one of my best black jeans up my legs, turning in front of the mirror to make sure that my not so subtle bum looks good in the tight fabric, and then slip on some black dress shoes, no socks as always. Okay, bottom half done. But what shirt? After rummaging through my closet for a while I find a light, red and black Armani pullover that hugs me like a second skin and decide to go with that. No jacket, seeing as it's summery outside and the pullover should keep me warm enough. I grab my keys, wallet and sunglasses and just as I lock the door behind me Harry's now familiar car comes to a halt in my driveway.   
I immediately hop inside, not waiting for him to come out and open my door, too excited to be with him again even though I've seen him just yesterday. Or maybe it is because I've seen him yesterday, and yesterday was pretty damn good. Very satisfying.  
"Good morning Harry." I chirp, smiling widely when his green eyes meet mine and he involuntarily smiles back.  
"Hi Lou. Ready to hit the shops?" he questions and chuckles when I throw my fist up in the air and whoop in fake enthusiasm.  
"I hate shopping, unless it's for vans. But suits? No thank you, you might have to lock me up inside those stores and not let me leave until I bought a suit, otherwise I'll just give up after 10 minutes." I explain, watching London pass by through the window.   
"Locking you up? Hm, that might have potential..." Harry whispers under his breath and my own breath hitches in my throat. Oh my. Just the thought of being locked up in a small room with him and him alone...Christ. I swallow hastily and drop my gaze into my lap where I subconsciously started fiddling with my fingers.   
"Anyway," Harry exclaims, his signature smirk oh so prominent on his face, "I promise that I won't let you go back home without a nice suit, so don't worry."  
"Don't worry, ask Harry, is that how it is?" I grin, revelling in his answering chuckle.  
"Exactly." The silence that follows our small exchange is peaceful and not awkward at all, both of us just content to be sitting next to each other, sharing a few glances and smiles every now and then. After a few minutes I rest my hand back on his leg like I did yesterday and this time he doesn't freeze or tense but instead he immediately covers my hand with his own, holding it firmly in place.

"Mr. Tomlinson, how lovely to see you again!" I'm greeted by a tall slim blonde that looks vaguely familiar as soon as I step into Louis Vuitton. Emma, was that her name? No. Eva! Yes, that's it. One of our personal shoppers here, she takes care of everyone in our team whenever one of us decides to shop here.   
I shake her hand, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling I have being surrounded by such expensive clothes. Why someone would spend hundreds and thousands of pounds on clothes is beyond me but Tom insisted, so here I am.  
"And who did you bring with you, Mr. Tomlinson?" Eva asks, eyeing Harry not all too subtly and fluttering her eyelashes at him. What the fuck?  
"Harry Styles, my bodyguard." I spit, and if I emphasise the 'my' a bit too strongly then so it be but I sure as hell don't like the way blondie is ogling him. Harrys eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my flippant tone but he still proceeds to shake Eva's hand, his polite manners ever so present. She blushes deeply and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. He's not interested in you, sweetie, trust me. No boobs for him, I think somewhat proudly, knowing that Harry is full on gay. I'm still uncomfortable watching the way she eyes him, though, even though I know that she's no threat. But still I want her away from him, so I approach her and gently grip her elbow to guide her away from him. She's standing way too close for my liking.  
"Eva, I need a suit. If you could be so kind and help me with that?" I request, pinning her down with a hard stare and ignoring Harry's amused smirk.   
"Oh, yes of course Mr. Tomlinson." She turns around and heads to the back of the almost empty shop where various suits hang neatly, no crinkles in the expensive fabric, and motions for us to follow her.  
"So a suit for you Mr. Tomlinson? Anything for you, Mr. Styles?" she turns back around to Harry, fluttering her eyelashes again and I don't think I imagine the suggestive tone in her voice, and something inside of me snaps.  
"No, he's just here for me. Now, the suit?" Muttering some sort of apology under her breath she quickly moves towards the suits, asking for colour preferences every now and then while trying to hide her flushed cheeks. That's right girl, stay away from my man.   
Grabbing Harry's arm I pull him into one of the aisles and start looking at suits myself, letting my hand brush over the thick fabrics when suddenly it's jerked away and I find myself being pulled towards the person in front of me.  
"You look nice today," Harry compliments and moves to stand right in front of me, closer than I thought he'd risk in a public shop. But the shop is almost empty and we're hidden away behind a rack of clothes, so carpe diem. I decide to take the chance and snake my arm around his waist so I can slip my hand into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling him even closer to me.   
"Thank you." I smile up at him, resting my chin on his chest, happiness bubbling inside me when he grins down at me softly. But soon his soft grin is replaced with a wicked one and I shiver.  
"You were quite rude to poor Eva." he states, winking at me and I gasp. Harry Styles winking? Oh my.  
"I don't like the way she was all over you," I admit, giving him my best Tommo pout and his face shifts.  
"You were jealous?" Why is he surprised? Of course I'm jealous, even though it's irrational.   
"You don't have to be, Louis. You know that I'm pretty much not into, you know, females. No competition for you here." He assures me, running his index finger over my still pursed lips.   
"Don't pout," he begs, his voice low. "It makes me want to do things to you that I can't do in this shop."   
"Oh really? Things like what?" I ask, lowering my voice seductively even though my heart starts pounding like crazy. He wants to do things to me! Yes please!  
"Bad things, Louis." he mumbles, running his hands from my hips down to my bum, squeezing tightly. "Bad, bad things." Holy shit. Bad things? I'm up for that. Literally.   
I open my mouth to give him some witty reply when Eva's voice interrupts me, calling me to her because apparently she found some nice suits. Damn that woman.   
But Harry releases me immediately and steps back, looking rather panicked so I grin up at him and saunter towards Eva, making sure to sway my bum a bit more than I should but when I look up to see Harrys eyes glued to me rather than Eva and her fluttering lashes I know that my game is working.  
"I found three suits that will look very good on you, Mr. Tomlinson, if you'd like to have a look at them?"   
"Yes, thank you," I mumble, distracted by the feeling of Harry's hot gaze on me.   
The bell rings and Eva looks up, biting her lip in indecision. I sense that this is my chance to get some time alone with Harry and immediately go for it.  
"If you want to go take care of other customers that's fine, Eva, go ahead. We'll be alright here." I insist, giving her a sincere smile. Very alright indeed.   
"Okay, Mr. Tomlinson, as you wish. Let me just show you the changing rooms and then I'll leave you to it." I nod and let her guide me to the shops large and very private dressing rooms, and with one last lingering glance at Harry that makes my blood boil, she finally leaves.   
"Phew, thank god she's gone." I sigh, relieved to have her out of my way.  
"You're irrational, Louis." Harry scolds me but the mild look on his face makes me think that he's almost pleased by my reaction. Yeah I'm apparently on the jealous side, alright? Which is odd for me because I've never been jealous before, I was never interested enough in one person to claim them as mine. But with Harry it's different. Everything's different.  
"I know. I'm ridiculous and childish and irrational but you know what, I don't care." I breathe, stepping closer to him.  
"You're all these things, Lou. And I love it." Fuck. Did he really just say that? He loves it?   
"Get changed, Louis." He motions to the dressing room and I sigh, slipping through the wooden door.   
The first suit is a plain black one, black dress pants, a black jacket and a black button up. It fits me quite well but I think it's fairly boring. When I watch myself in the large mirror an idea comes to my mind and I open the door, peeking outside to see that we're still alone in the changing room area, thank god.  
"Harry? What do you think?" I question and step out onto the hallway in the suit, my hands folded in front of my body.   
Smiling Harry strolls over to where I'm standing and let's his eyes travel up and down my body, heating every inch of my skin they pass.   
"I think it's okay but quite boring, all black." I explain when he doesn't say anything and just keeps staring at me.  
"Hmm. Try on the other ones then." he mumbles, his voice raw and I shiver involuntarily.   
"Okay, boss. Wait here, I'll need your advice." 

 

The second suit isn't any better, it's a grey one but it doesn't look good on me at all so I quickly dismiss it.

"Yes. Fuck yes," Harry mumbles when I step out of the dressing room in the third suit, a blue one paired with a white shirt and brown leather shoes. I have to admit I like this suit, it makes my bum look good. And the way Harry's eyes widen when he sees me confirms as much.  
"Turn around," he requests, his eyes glued to my body and I do as he asks, twirling for him so he can look at me from all sides.   
"This..." he mumbles, stepping behind me and, after checking that we're indeed still alone, resting his large hands on my bum, "is very nice."   
"Is it now?" I breath and lean back against him, my head resting against his shoulder when he starts mouthing at my neck.  
"Hmm." he hums against my skin and something inside of me explodes. Grabbing his arm I pull him into the changing room with me and lock the door behind us, luckily these changing rooms have proper doors and not just curtains.   
I smirk proudly, thinking that I have the upper hand when suddenly I'm slammed against the wall, the movement knocking the air out of my lungs and then Harry is on me in a flash, the length of his body pressing against my own while his tongue pries my lips apart, slipping into my mouth.   
My hands immediately go to his hair and pull roughly, making him gasp into my mouth and I can barely stop myself from groaning, knowing that we have to be quiet.   
"I really like this suit," Harry whispers when we pull apart, his body still hovering over mine, his plump swollen lips just inches away from mine. Too tempting. Reaching up I gently bite his bottom lip and pull at it, smirking when I hear his breath hitch in his throat.   
"I do too. Let's buy it." Harry nods in agreement, his eyes still burning and when he pushes himself away from me I wrap my arms around his waist to stop him.   
"Help me out of it?" I request and watch as Harry's eyes darken further when he gets what I'm saying.  
"With pleasure." Moving his large hands to my shoulders he slowly runs his fingers over the expensive fabric before sliding the jacket off and letting it drop to the floor unceremoniously, then he moves his graceful fingers down my torso, unbuttoning my shirt as they go until I'm just in my pants in front of him.  
Bending his long body downwards he moves his lips across my chest, his tongue circling first my left nipple than the right one, making my body arch into him.   
"Shht, be quiet Louis," he scolds me when a small moan escapes my lips and the places his hand over my mouth, effectively silencing me while his lips travel further south until they reach the waistband of my pants.  
He makes quick work of the pants, unbuttoning them and letting them drop to pool at my feet, leaving me in just my boxers.  
"You know", Harry announces as he moves to kneel in front of me, "I really liked the suit. But I like this even more." He lets his free hand travel up my leg from my ankle to my hips, his feathery touch leaving goosebumps on my skin and if it wasn't for his other hands still clamped over my mouth I'd be a moaning mess.   
Rising to his full height he grinds his hips against mine once, twice before he pulls away.  
"Get dressed, Louis." And with a quick kiss to my lips he slips out of the room, leaving me panting like a madman. Argh, tease!   
Stepping out of the changing room, all disheveled clothes and rumpled hair, I look for Eva and hold up the blue suit in my hand. "I'd like to buy this suit."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7.2k words in 3 hours and my head is spinning. I was at my Mum's all week, re-decorating her living room so I had 0 time to write, I'm sorry. Hope this chapter makes up for the waiting.   
> Smut smut smut, please let me know what you think. I'm kind of new to this larry sex thing, whoopsie, so feedback is greatly appreciated.  
> Happy reading everybody x

"Louis, you should go inside." Harry orders, a small smile on his face and I frown.  
"But why? There's no paps around! Nobody will know that you're here."   
"People will see my car in your driveway and probably come to conclusions." Harry argues and, seeing the disappointed look on my face, softly adds "be reasonable, Lou, please. We have to be careful." I nod, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. I know that we have to be careful but damn, I just want to be with him, is that so wrong?  
"I know. I just want to spend time with you," I admit in a small voice, unable to look into his eyes so I opt for the window instead. My eyes snap back to him, though, when a hand is placed on my leg, long fingers rubbing small circles into my thigh.   
"I want to spend time with you too, Lou. But it's not safe, you know that." And as I look into his eyes something inside of me just breaks and I nod hastily, turning away from him to open the door. I thought...maybe he doesn't want this as much as I do? He obviously doesn't feel the same pull towards me, doesn't feel the need to spend every free moment with me like I do with him, otherwise he'd stay, wouldn't he?   
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then." Without another word I open the door and hop outside, disappointment making my heart heavy. I thought we were on the same page, but apparently...  
"The tube." I freeze for a moment and then stop the door before it can fall shut, gazing up at him with expectant eyes. The tube?   
"I could take the tube..." he muses, pensively stroking his chin while his eyes travel over the neighbouring houses, absentmindedly looking for someone who could be watching us.  
"What?" I wonder, still confused. What does he mean?   
"I'm going to drive home and then take the tube back to your place. That way nobody can see how long I'm staying." He smiles, clearly pleased with his plan and I laugh, relief bubbling through my veins. Maybe we are on the same page after all. "Sounds like a plan. But I don't like you taking the tube..." I hate the tube, it's crowded and full of people that I don't necessarily want to be around.   
"I'm a big boy, I think I can take care of yourself." Smirking, he proudly flexes his impressive biceps and my mouth goes dry as swallowing suddenly becomes impossible. Damn. Prying my eyes away from his arms I take a shaky breath before answering.   
"I know you can. But it's crowded and smelly." I argue, scrunching up my nose in disgust at the memories of taking the tube.   
"You're smelly too, and I still like you. Now go inside, I'll see you in about two hours okay?" Gasping, I finally slam the door shut and shoot him my middle finger, pretending to be offended that he called me smelly but I can't quite keep the grin off my face when he just laughs and blows me a kiss before easing the car out of my driveway.  
I don't smell. Screw you, Styles.   
As much as I would've loved to just laze around on the sofa with a can of beer when I come home, I don't. It's what I usually do on a free afternoon but instead I find myself running around the house, picking up dirty clothes from the floor, making the bed and checking that the toilet is flushed. I even start mopping the floor but quickly give it up after I nearly flood the entire hallway. Whoopsie. I'm so lost in my work, blasting 'Drops of Jupiter' through the entire house and singing along while folding clothes, that I almost miss Harry calling me to say that he's on his way.  
"I'm at the tube station now, I'll be at your place in about 40 minutes okay?" His deep voice comes through the speaker and my heart flutters with anticipation. It's only been a little more than an hour since he left and I already miss him, how pathetic am I? Christ. I need to get s grip.  
"Okay, see you then. And harry? Please be careful."   
"I will, Lou." I sigh happily, hearing the smile in his voice, and then continue folding my clothes until my house is the cleanest it's ever been since I bought it about a year and a half ago. And that's definitely not because I want to impress a certain curly haired man with insane biceps, no way.  
When the doorbell finally rings I scramble to my feet so quickly that I slip on the hardwood floor in my living room and stub my toe against the couch table. Fuck! Groaning I hobble towards the front door, my face twisted in pain. Shit, who knew that a toe could hurt like such a bitch?   
"Louis? Are you okay?" Harry wonders once he's slipped inside and set the large bag he was carrying down on the floor.  
"Yeah, just stubbed my toe." I whine, tentatively wiggling my toes and wincing at the pain, causing harry to laugh out loud.   
"Aw, my poor boy. Such incredible pain, hm?" Groaning I swat at his chest and pout, trying to control the blush that creeps up my cheeks because he called me 'his' boy.   
"A bit more sympathy wouldn't kill you would it?" I grumble before picking up the bag he dropped and carrying it into the kitchen, seeing as it's full of food.   
Laughing again, Harry gently takes the bag from my hands and places it onto the kitchen counter before turning back to face me. Wrapping one of his large hands around my neck he pulls me in for a kiss, whispering, "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"   
I can't do anything but hum against his lips in agreement, my rapidly clouding mind already forgetting what there is to forgive with the feeling of his lips moving against mine.   
"Good. I brought stuff to make dinner," Harry announces once we pull apart and points to the bag, a wicked spark in his eyes. And once I have a proper look at the food in the bag I immediate know why.  
"Vegetables? Really? You know, I'm more a cheeseburger kind of person." I explain dryly, eyeing the paprika and onions and whatnot he has in his bag. Is that a courgette? I honestly have no idea.  
"I know, Tomlinson, but I fully intend to change that."   
"Do you now," I mutter, eyeing the vegetables with scepticism. Why do people even eat that voluntarily? It looks so fucking healthy. Disgusting.   
"Yep. Ratatouille," Harry exclaims with a grin, throwing some purple thing at me that I've never seen before in my life but apparently I'll have to eat it tonight. Well, cheers.   
"Rata- what?" I'm officially horrified by now. Vegetables, unidentifiable purple plants and a dish whose name puts a knot in my tongue? What on earth have I gotten myself into.   
"No, not Rata-what, Lou. Ratatouille. It tastes great, honestly." Well, we'll see about that.   
"Cmon, put those tiny hands of yours to use. You can chop the courgettes and the aubergines," Harry orders, pointing to the weird purple things. Oh, they're aubergines then? Good to know.  
"My hands are not tiny!" I protest but do as I'm told and move the vegetables to the sink to wash them. That's what you do before cooking them isn't it?   
"Yes, Lou, they are." Harry argues, smirking up at me from where he's expertly chopping some red peppers at lightning speed, immediately making me worried that he'll cut off his fingers.   
"I'm gonna show you tiny, Styles," I threaten, wiggling my fingers at him and starting to poke his sides. Dropping his knife Harry squeals, that huge man with broad shoulders actually fucking squeals like a 4 year old girl and my heart stops beating for a moment. Fucking hell, how cute is he?  
"No, no Lou stop, please," he manages to choke out between fits of giggles, trying to wiggle out of my grip but he's trapped between my body and the kitchen counter, there's no escape. I continue tickling him with a ridiculously broad grin on my face, my fingers poking his side absolutely relentlessly, enjoying it way too much to see him giggle like a school girl.   
"What did you say about my fingers, Styles?"   
"They're huge! Gigantic! Please Lou, stop."   
"Thanks." And just like that I drop my hands and turn away from him like nothing happened while he stands there panting, bending over like he's just run a marathon.   
"You're going to regret that, Louis Tomlinson. I'll get my revenge." Harry threatens, his voice darkening and I swallow, nearly dropping my knife. Revenge?  
"Oh, really?" I question, trying to appear uninterested.   
"Hmm. Tonight." He doesn't say anything else, he just pics up his knife and continues chopping the peppers while I'm left here with image after image in my head, my mind coming up with a hundred possibilities of what his 'revenge' could be. I sure hope it involves him, naked.   
"And?" Harry questions eagerly, his eyes studying my face, waiting for my reaction while I chew the first bite of his Ratatouille. It's basically just vegetables and rice in a sauce and honestly, it looks slightly disturbing but while I'm chewing I have to admit that it's actually quite good. Very good.  
"It's okay." I tease, shrugging seemingly uninterested.   
"Okay?" I'm met with a pair of green eyes beneath raised brows, giving me the 'don't fuck with me, Tommo' look.  
"Alright alright, it's good, really good!" I admit, throwing my hands up in capitulation and Harry grins adorably. If it makes him that happy, maybe eating vegetables every now and then won't be so bad...

 

We finish eating and then quickly wash the dishes before settling on the couch, the TV muted in the background though neither of us is paying any attention to it. How could I focus on the TV when Harry's eyes are burning into my own, his lips just centimetres from mine?   
"Now about my revenge..." he whispers against my lips and I think I might pass out from the sound of his deep voice alone.   
"What about that?" I ask breathlessly, my heart already hammering in my chest. Christ, I hope he can't feel it with the way our bodies are pressed together, chest against chest. But when he presses his lips to mine again in a slow but heady kiss, his tongue lazily rolling against mine, all my worries fall away until he's the only thing present inside my head.   
"Wait and see, Tomlinson." Smirking down at me Harry lets his right hand travel down my body, from my neck over my shoulders down to my hips where he curls his fingers around the fabric of my jumper, pushing it up slightly. Slipping his long fingers under the thick fabric he lets them glide over my lower stomach, raising goosebumps on my skin.  
"Can I?" he mumbles, pulling at the sweater to signal what he wants and I nod, letting him pull the fabric over my head. He drops it to the floor and then his lips are back on mine in a rough kiss, our tongues meeting before our lips do and I'm lost and breathless, totally overwhelmed by the force that this man is. He's running me over like a freight train and honestly, I don't mind one bit.  
Feeling brave I gently bite into his plump bottom lip and tug at it, causing him to release a deep throaty moan that makes my dick twitch in interest.   
Running my hands over his broad shoulders and down his back I pull him even closer, our bodies a mess of tangled limbs.   
Pulling away he lets his lips travel over my chest and down to my lower abdomen, his tongue darting out every now and then to circle into my flesh, his teeth grazing my skin just above the waistband of my sweatpants and I involuntarily buck my hips up at the sensation.  
"H-Harry, fuck..." I pant, moaning loudly when his mouth travels even deeper, his lips brushing over my growing erection under the cover of my pants.  
"Hmm. Already hard for me baby," he mumbles approvingly, one of his large hands coming up to palm me into full hardness. It literally takes a few seconds but somehow I don't even feel ashamed, not around him. I want him, so what   
I risk a glance at his own crotch and sure enough, he's sporting an impressive erection himself. I start grinding my hips up against his, trapping his hand between us and he hisses at the friction, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps moving his hand against me until I'm so hard that it almost hurts and I know that I need release, soon.  
"Fuck, Harry, please."  
"Please what, Lou?" he whispers with a wicked look in his eyes and I realise that this is his game, his revenge. He's going to make me beg.   
"I want you," I whine, far beyond the point of caring in my desperation. If he wants me to beg then I'll fucking well beg because I'm just that desperate, thank you very much.  
"Is that so?" he wonders seemingly innocent but smirking at my embarrassing whimper when he stills his hand. But then an idea comes to my mind, an idea that might completely take the wind out of his sails.  
"Yes, yes Harry. I want you, inside me." A part of me is absolutely mortified at the thought of being with a man, especially since I have no idea what to do. But the other, much larger part just wants him, right here and right now. I trust him, implicitly.   
"Shit, Lou, are you sure?" He stills completely, the shock at my plea clear on his face but I nod frantically and, trying to erase the hesitation in his eyes, reach up to thread my hands through his hair, pulling at the already messy curls until his face is mere inches from mine.  
" 'M sure, Harry. Please, I want you." I watch his eyes darken as determination replaces hesitation, and then his lips are back on mine, much rougher and hungrier this time.  
"Condoms? Do you have lube?" he pants against my lips and I struggle to form a coherent thought, too occupied thinking about the way his long body presses mine into the couch.   
"Bathroom, upstairs." I manage to whisper causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.  
"Both?"  
I nod eagerly, feeling a deep blush covering my cheeks. So yes, I actually bought lube. A man can hope, can't he? And yes, I even googled gay sex, so I think I have a rough idea of what's about to happen, but my heart is still hammering nervously in my chest.   
My breath hitches in my throat when a huge smile nearly splits his face in half, dimples on full display and eyes sparkling happily. Jesus.  
"Good boy," he whispers and I gasp when I feel my dick twitch in interest at his words. Harry obviously notices, seeing as his smile shifts into one of his signature smirks and his eyes darken.  
"Do you like that? Being called a good boy?" Fucking hell, why is this so hot? Him talking to me like this? I nod nervously, my cloudy brain unable to come up with a verbal response.   
"Hmm..." he hums against my lips, his tongue invading my mouth again while my brain tries to keep up with what's happening. Suddenly he sits up and takes me with him so I'm straddling him, my legs on either side of him and I feel his erection digging into my thigh, right next to mine. So close...I shift slightly and hesitantly start rocking against him, our erections deliciously rubbing together every time I move. Gasping into my mouth Harry tightens his grip on my hip and I move faster, encouraged by his reaction. I keep moving, a loud moan escaping my lips when I feel his large hands running up and down my back, his fingernails digging into my skin, leaving his marks on me.   
"So beautiful," he compliments when we finally break our heated kiss, but before I can protest at the lack of his lips on my body he moves them down my cheek to my jaw and then down my throat to the junction of my neck and shoulder where he lets them linger to suck a mark into my skin, leaving the flesh tingling.   
While one of his large hands holds me in place the other moves over my chest, long fingers twisting one of my nipples and I nearly leap of the couch at the sensation running through me. Nobody ever touched my nipples, it's what guys usually do to girls but not the other way around so I'm completely unprepared for the amount of pleasure surging through me, making me arch my body into him.   
"Shit, Harry..." I hiss, completely overwhelmed by my body's reaction. Why does this feel so good? Does it always feel like this, or is it really just him?   
Instead of an answer he scoops me up in his arms, holding me to his chest and standing up as if I weight nothing. Whoa.  
"Wrap your legs around me, baby." he instructs and I do as I'm told, wrapping my still clothed legs around his waist. He moves his lips back down to my neck and I moan loudly, throwing my head back to allow him more access. Without removing his lips from my skin he carries me up the stairs, his large hands covering the span of my bum completely and holding me firmly in place. Once in the bedroom he throws me onto the bed and I take him in from my position down her, all flushed cheeks and messy hair, wild eyes.   
"Wait here, don't move. And don't touch yourself." He orders, pointing to my hand that subconsciously moved down to my crotch, palming myself. Whoopsie. So bossy, I think and bite my lip to suppress my smirk. Hmm, I like bossy Harry.  
"Whatever you say, Sir." I mumble and hold both of my hands up in surrender, surprised when Harry lets out a deep growl before turning around on his heels and basically sprinting out of the room towards the bathroom. Hmm, looks like he likes being 'Sir'. I think we can work with that... I smirk to myself while staring up at the ceiling and waiting for him to return.  
When he does, he holds the small bottle of lube and a condom in his hands and my nervousness comes rushing back with full force. Sitting up I face him and take a deep breath, ready to voice my insecurities.  
"Harry, I..." I start, wanting to tell him that I have no idea what to do but he stops me with a shake of his head. Placing the two items on the bedside table he kneels down on the bed and crawls over to me until he straddles my lap and, placing both of his hands on my cheeks he gazes intently into my eyes.   
"Don't be nervous, Lou, please. If you really want this..." he stops for a moment, waiting for me to confirm it again and I do, eagerly. Despite my nervousness I'm 100% sure that I want this, with him. I just don't want to fuck it up for him.   
"then we're going to do this. It'll be uncomfortable first but I'll be careful, I promise." He looks so sincere, so worried about me that my heart stutters in my chest. What did I do to deserve this man?  
"I trust you, Harry." I promise him and run my hands through his hair to pull his mouth down to mine. He reacts immediately, kissing me with full force, his hard on digging deliciously into my hip and I know what I want — him, naked.   
"You're still dressed, Harold." I manage to pant once we break the kiss. "I don't like that one bit. I want you naked."   
"You want it, baby, you get it," is his swift reply and before I know it he's pulled his sweater over his head, revealing his toned torso and my mouth goes dry. What I'd give to run my tongue over his abs...fucking hell, why shouldn't I? Fisting his hair and pulling his head to the side I lean down, letting my lips travel from his neck over his chest to his stomach, licking and biting as I go until he writhes in front of me, a moaning mess.  
"Shit, Lou," he gasps when I press my palm flat against his bulge, making him jump slightly.   
"Off," I order and hook my fingers into his jeans, undoing the button and zipper in one swift motion. He lifts himself off of me to pull down his pants, taking his boxers with them in one movement so he's left completely naked above me and my heart stops beating. He looks so fucking wrecked already, his pulsing cock standing thickly, already leaking precome. Before I can react, though, he's back over me and dips his hands into my own pants, pulling them down swiftly until I'm just as naked.   
"Hmm," he mumbles appreciatively, licking his lips. Leaning down he licks a thick stripe from the bottom of my shaft up to the tip and I nearly combust then and there, my hips bucking without my control, moving up to meet his tongue, searching for friction.   
"Harry, please," I whimper, wanting him, needing him.  
"Okay, baby. I'll be careful." I swallow thickly as he reaches for the small bottle on the beside table and starts slicking up his fingers.   
"Lay back, legs spread," he orders softly, his eyes glowing warmly with concern and I comply, trying to ignore the knots in my stomach.  
"This is going to be unfamiliar at first but you'll adjust, don't worry." he rushes to assure me and then moves his mouth back against mine, kissing me until my lips go numb while he moves one of his hands between my legs, spreading them a bit further.  
Feeling his fingertips against my hole I involuntarily arch my back, having lost control over my body long ago.  
He runs his slick finger around my hole a few times until my legs begin to shake, my entire body tight with nerves and anticipation.  
Then he finally slips a finger inside of me, holding it still for a moment to let me get used to the foreign feeling before he begins to move it, pumping in and out and circling it around and...oh fucking hell.   
"Fuck fuck fuck, Harry," I moan, a rapid string of curses leaving my mouth at the sensation that runs through me. As he said, it does feel foreign and unfamiliar but the feeling soon subsides, being replaced by sheer pleasure that has me grinding against his finger soon, already wanting more. He circles his finger a few more times before shooting me a questioning look and I nod, already desperate for a second finger. He removes the first one but before I can protest pushes two fingers inside me, circling them around. The stinging sensation soon subsides again as he moves his fingers inside me, in and out, scissoring them...  
"FUCK!" I nearly leap off the bed, my entire body trembling when his index finger brushes against a spot deep inside me, a spot that drives me absolutely fucking crazy. Holy hell.  
"Found it," Harry mumbles proudly then continues to suck marks into my collarbones while moving his fingers inside me, soon adding a third one, turning me into a moaning and panting mess.   
"You're doing so well, baby," he praises and circles his fingers one last time before pulling them out of me. I whine at the empty feeling, my arse clenching around the air and I'm already desperate for him to be inside me properly.   
"You still sure that you want this?" he asks one last time and I throw him an incredulous glance that has him chuckling quietly. Does he even have to ask?  
Still smiling he retrieves the condom from the bedside table but before he can tear it open I sit up and snatch the package from him, taking him by surprise.  
"Let me?" I've obviously never put a condom on another man before but I've done it on myself countless times, I know how this works. Besides, I'm itching to touch him.  
"I'm all yours." Holding up his hands he sits back on his heels and smiles down at me, waiting for me to continue. Reaching out I run my thumb over his tip, collecting the precome that has gathered there and spreading it over his shaft with my fingers before wrapping my hand around him, revelling in the feeling of him hot and hard in my hand.   
"Shit, Lou!" Throwing his head back Harry surrenders himself to my touch, his body writhing and trembling in front of me. I'm tempted to take him into my mouth, just for a moment, but then decide against it — I don't want this to be over before I had a chance to feel him inside of me. So I quickly sheath him up and hand him the lube, not knowing how much you need for this.   
Grabbing my shoulder with his lube-free hand he pushes me back down into the mattress and I swallow harshly, my entire body trembling with anticipation. I want this, I need this — now.  
"Pull your legs up to your chest," Harry orders and I do as I'm told, trying to ignore the fact that I feel incredibly exposed like this. Hell, this man has just had his fingers inside me, I shouldn't feel nervous now.  
"Ready?" he asks yet again and I snap, my patience wearing thin.  
"For fucks sake, Harry, I swear if you don't start right now I'll..." the rest of my sentence turns into a string of moans when he pushes into me with a smirk ever so prominent on his face, slowly inching deeper until he's bottomed out and resting hot and pulsing inside of me.   
"Okay?" he whispers against my lips, concern clear in his eyes and I nod, relieved when the stinging sensation stops.  
"Yes, move. Please." And then he does, slowly at first but when he feels me grinding down against him he picks up speed, slamming into me over and over again. Grabbing my legs he hoists them over his shoulders, a position I never knew my body could do but apparently it can and fuck, the difference it makes. This feels so strange, so unfamiliar but at the same time so teeth-clenchingly good that my toes curl at the intense pleasure he's giving me.  
"Shit, shit H-Harry," I moan when he hits my prostate dead on, pounding into it with every trust. I feel the familiar build in my stomach and I know I'm close, so close so I reach out to wrap my hand around myself, needing the release but Harry is not having it. Swatting my hands away he pins my wrists down by my head and keeps pounding into me, sending me towards my goal.  
"No touching, Lou," he grunts into my ear, leaning his entire body against mine so my cock is trapped between our stomachs, giving me the friction that I have been craving.  
"Give it up for me, please," Harry begs, his wild eyes staring into mine and I know I'm so, so close. "Be a good boy. C'mon." And his hoarse words are my undoing, sending me over the edge into a bone-shattering orgasm as I explode powerfully onto my chest.   
"Fuck, Harry!"   
"Yes, Lou, that's right. Give it up for me. Good boy." Harry continuously babbles nonesense into my ear while he fucks me through my orgasm in search of his own. It doesn't take much longer until he stills and, throwing his head back, comes into the condom with stuttering hips and a shout of my name.  
He gently pulls out before collapsing onto the bed next to me and I can't do anything but stare at him, completely sated and with an idiotic grin on my face.  
Harry looks so breathtaking laying next to me with his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and his cheeks flushed bright pink, and I wonder for what feels like the hundredths time what I did to deserve someone as heart-stoppingly beautiful him.  
"Good?" he mumbles, tired eyes gazing up at me. My only answer is a broad smile that tells him everything he needs to know, making him chuckle.   
"I should get a flannel to wipe you down, bathroom?" He asks, gesturing to my cum-covered stomach.   
"Yeah, but I'll get one. I'm the one who needs to be cleaned, not you." I protest and push myself into a sitting position. But as soon as my bum makes contact with the mattress a stinging pain curses through me and I flinch.  
"Ow."   
"Hurts?" Harry asks, clearly enjoying my pain and I pout before swatting at his chest.   
"My job is done then." He leaves the room with a satisfied smirk and returns minutes later with a warm cloth. Christ, how am I supposed to run around at the dinner all night tomorrow? I dont even want to think about the game on Saturday, running around the field for 90 minutes tomorrow with my arse hurting like this? I really should've thought this through properly. But when Harry gently wipes the drying cum of my chest and then curls up next to me I know that tonight was just perfect, and I'd do it again any time, football game and arse pain or not.  
"You're gonna feel me every second of the game tomorrow," Harry mumbles against my hair as if he can read my thoughts, his voice syrupy slow and even deeper than usual in his sleepy and sated state.  
"Hmm." I agree and manage to lift my head for a moment to press a kiss to his lips before resting it back against his chest. "It was worth it though." And then I drift off to sleep with Harry's deep voice whispering "Yes, it was," into my ear, putting a content smile on my face.

 

_______________________________

 

I wake up with a broad smile at the sight in front of me. Harry is still fast asleep on his side next to me, with one of his hands resting lightly on my stomach. He looks so peaceful, drawing in even breaths, his usual frown nowhere to be seen. I take a moment to admire him, this man that somehow managed to turn my life upside down. That jawline, fuck. I wonder if I could cut myself on it. Probably, considering how sharp it is. My fingers twitch, wanting to run through the light stubble on his jaw but I manage to suppress the urge, not wanting to wake him. It did get quite late yesterday...oh, yesterday. I smile broadly, remembering the way we moved together. I had no idea that it could feel this good with a man. Or maybe it's just Harry? But whatever it is, last night was one of the best orgasms I ever had, I can't deny that. I was nervous, yes, but something about being with him felt so natural, so right that somewhere along the way I just stopped questioning it and just went with it. And it honestly terrifies me just as much as it excites me. I don't know what's happening to me. I mean, it's not exactly easy to think that you're straight all this time only to have this one guy with floppy curls and striking green eyes march into your life and turn it upside down. I still don't understand what he's doing to me. I've always been happy with girls, it never felt wrong to be with them. But now, knowing how it can be, with him — everything before him kind of feels dull and grey. What do I make of that? Am I gay? Am I bi? Am I 'Harry Styles only'? I don't fucking know.  
So while laying next to Harry, feeling his hot breath fanning over my shoulder, I try to figure out when and how my life has become such a confusing mess.  
That is, until my phone starts vibrating on the bedside table.  
Fucking hell, that's what I call bad timing. I carefully remove Harry's hand from my stomach, sending a silent prayer to a god that I don't believe in when he thankfully doesn't wake up, and grab my phone to stop the annoying noise. It's my Mum, of course. Is it just my Mum or do Mums generally have a tendency to interrupt in the most unfitting moments?  
Knowing that she'll be absolutely pissed off if I don't take her call I hastily scramble to my feet and rush towards the door, picking up something that looks like a sweatshirt on the way out.  
Once I reach the hallway I stroll down to the living room, wincing at the pain in my bum and cursing like a madman before accept the call.  
"Mum?"  
"Ah, finally. I thought you wouldn't pick up your phone, as always." Love you too, Mum, I think, sighing inwardly.  
"Sorry, Mum, I was still in bed." I reply, struggling to pull the sweatshirt I grabbed over my head without dropping the phone. Once I managed to pull it over my torso I realise that it's actually Harry's. It's way too large for me, nearly reaching down to my knees. But I love it, I immediately feel warm in it. I shove the sleeves up a bit to free my hands and then re-focus on what my Mum is saying.  
"Lazy as always. I struggled to get you out of bed for 18 years, I guess some things never change."  
"I know, Mum, I know. It's not like you'd have me any other way." I smile when I hear her laugh coming through the line and I know the day is saved, thank god. "What can I do for you?"  
"Oh, nothing specific. I just wanted to check on you and remind you that you're a part of this family, Lewis, even though you're not acting like it lately." Lewis? Oh shit. I'm only ever Lewis when my Mum is serious. To be honest, my family has indeed seen very little of me lately. But in my defence, I've been busy. With football, and, well, partying...   
"Yeah, Mum, I'm sorry. I've just been busy, you know?"   
"Busy, hm?" My heart freezes. That's not my Mum's voice. Turning around I see Harry standing in the doorway, dressed in just his boxers, his curls flopping messily over his shoulders, his eyes drooping and fuck, as if this isn't the most adorable thing I've ever seen. I open my mouth, struggling to come up with something to say but my Mum beats me to it anyway.  
"Louis Tomlinson, who was that?" Well, shit. I could of course tell her that it was just my bodyguard but knowing my Mum, she wouldn't buy that for a second. Why would my bodyguard be in my house at 9 in the morning? I can't lie to her, I never could. She knows me too well, damn her.  
"Harry," I explain simply, shrugging though I know she can't see it.  
Seeing Harry strolling over towards me I quickly hiss a "give me a second, Mum" into the speaker and then cover it up with my hand just in time to hide the swift kiss from her that Harry presses to my mouth.  
"I'm talking to my Mum, I'll join you for breakfast soon alright?" I smile up at him, trying to keep my eyes on his face and not on his torso because fuck, having abs like that should be illegal. He should be illegal, end of the story.  
"Okay. I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt you but I woke up and you were gone, I was worried..." Seeing the frown on his face all my irritation that my Mum found out about him falls away in an instant, replaced by the overwhelming need to reassure him, so I push myself up onto my tippy toes to press a kiss to the crease between his brows, smiling proudly when his face softens. This is my favourite look on him, his eyes shining like molten emerald and the corners of his plump lips pulled up in a small smile.   
"You worry too much, Styles. Now let me finish with my Mum and I'll see you in the kitchen." Nudging his hip with mine I push him towards the door, and if I catch myself staring at his cute little bum with my mouth hanging wide open then so it be. At least I'm not drooling.  
"Sorry Mum, I'm back," I inform her, holding the phone back to my ear and holding my breath, waiting for the storm that is undoubtedly about to come.  
"LOUIS TOMLINSON! What the hell is going on? What are you not telling me?! Who is this Harry and what is he doing in your house this early in the morning?" I sigh loudly, letting out the breath I was holding. Jep, that's my whirlwind of a Mum. Bless her.  
"Mum, can I tell you about this in person, please?" I question, refusing to give her all the details over the phone, especially with Harry waiting in the kitchen in just his boxers. Hmmm....  
"Louis, are you trying to avoid me? I'm your mother Louis, I need to know what's going on. Who is he?" Damn my Mum and her persistence.   
"Well, he's Harry. And he's a man. I mean, he obviously is but... Oh Mum, I'm so confused." And suddenly it all comes crashing down on me, all the confusion I felt this morning, threatening to drown me. My Mum immediately picks up on the change in my mood, her voice softening and once again I'm reminded of why I love this woman so much. She can be a hurricane at times but when you really need her she can be the most gentle, loving person on the entire planet.  
"Oh Lou, what are you confused about?"   
"Well, he's a man." I state as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.  
"So?" So? Can't she see how fucking complicated this is? Christ.  
"Mum, I've never been gay. I can't be gay. What about football? Gay footballers aren't accepted. I'll lose my job. And...somehow I don't feel like I'm really gay. I've always been happy with girls but there's justsomething about him that has me going crazy, he has something that I just can't resist. But what am I supposed to do? He just comes marching into my life and turns it upside down and suddenly I'm having sex with a man and..." I stop, blushing like a madman at that last admission. Did I really just say that? Fucking hell, way to go Tommo.  
"Shh, Louis. Calm down. It's okay, sometimes you meet people like that. You think your life is all planned out and in order and suddenly someone comes barging into it and your entire world view changes. Some people do that to us, Lou, and there's nothing to be ashamed or confused of. Don't label yourself. If you like this Harry then you like him, end of the story. The rest will work out somehow. How long have you known each other?"   
"Just a few weeks, we met through work." It's not really a lie since we technically did meet through work but I purposely leave out the bodyguard part, not wanting to tell my Mum about our more than complicated work relationship over the phone. She's got a very high tolerance span but this might be a bit too much, even for her. She just had to find out that her son is possibly gay and she's totally cool about it, bless her, but I'm not sure how well the entire bodyguard thing would go down.  
"Is he a footballer, too?" Mum asks innocently and I can't help but giggle, picturing Harry running over the field in shorts with his curls flying out in all directions. Maybe he'd put his hair into a bun? I take a moment to try and imagine Harry with a bun but it doesn't quite work out. I bet he'd pull it off though, I can't imagine that anything would ever look horrible on him. He's too beautiful.  
"Not quite," I reply vaguely, hoping that she'll get the memo and change the topic. Thankfully she does.  
"Okay. We really do have to meet soon, I want to know everything about this man that has my son all loved up." Loved up? What? Hang on a moment. I'm not loved up. I'm not in love. No way. Love, relationships, commitment — it's not my thing, at all. Harry and I are...fucking. Maybe. Okay, so the museum and cooking dinner and shopping part isn't exactly what a 'fucking-only' relationship looks like, but...  
"Your grandparents are coming over tomorrow, how about you move your ass over to Doncaster too? The family is missing you."   
"I know, Mum, but I can't come tomorrow, we have a game. But how about I come over on Sunday?" I suggest, suddenly feeling bad for neglecting my family like that. No big game tomorrow means there's no partying at night means I should be more or less representable on Sunday.  
"Sounds like a plan, Louis. I'll see you on Sunday then, okay? Will you be staying overnight?"   
"Uhm, no, I don't think so. I have training on Monday." I explain. I love my family to pieces but I know that one day with all my little siblings and my Mum, who is like a little girl herself, will be more than enough. I don't know how I managed to survive in that household for 18 years without going completely nuts.  
"Okay, I'll see you on Sunday then. And Louis? Try not to stress yourself too much. If it feels right then jump right into it and if anybody judges you, screw them. I love you, Boobear."  
"I love you too, Mum. See you."   
And with my Mums encouraging words still in my ear I head to the kitchen, and when I see Harry skilfully flipping pancakes in just his boxers, his hair all over the place, I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, things could really work out somehow.


	13. Chapter 13

"When does this fucking thing start again tonight?" I ask and lazily fold my hands over my full belly - Harry's pancakes really are the best things in the whole world.   
"Reception is at 5:30, so I'd say we leave at 4:30." 4:30? Is he serious?  
"But that's an hour before it starts! We'll be there on time, maybe even early!" I whine and shoot him my middle finger when Harry just laughs.  
"Exactly." I get a pointed look from piercing green eyes and throw my hands up in defeat, laughing despite my best attempts to keep a straight face.   
"Okay okay, have it your way. You're actually turning me into a proper, respectable member of society Styles." I complain but when I see the proud smile on his face I realise that I actually don't mind one bit.   
"So we're leaving at 4. That still gives us 5 hours. Anything you have in mind for those 5 hours?" I wonder seemingly innocent, running my fingers over my bottom lip and I see Harry's eyes darkening, my belly clenching deliciously in return.  
"I need to get clothes, Lou." Harry reminds me and I sigh loudly, rolling my eyes at him.  
"We don't need 5 hours to get you some clothes Harry. Despite, I quite like you the way you look now." I admit and let my eyes travel greedily over his body, his toned and tattooed torso and endlessly long legs.   
"Do you now?" the signature Styles-smirk is back and I grin happily, maybe there's still a chance to sneak in something deliciously naughty with him...  
"Oh, I do indeed." I nod, biting my lip, my eyes never leaving his body.   
"Maybe you do, but I don't think the good people of the football industry would appreciate a bodyguard in suede boots and boxers." Harry objects with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and I groan out loud.  
"Fine, Styles, fine. We'll go to your place before heading off to the event tonight so you can get changed, okay?" He nods happily, making his curls bounce wildly and I chuckle inwardly. He's such a child sometimes.   
"That still gives us quite a lot of time to kill..." I try again, frowning when Harry's face stays impassive.  
"We still have the dishes to wash, and you need to get ready and..."  
"For fucks sake, Styles!" I yell when I catch the amused sparkle in his eyes and lash out to lightly punch his chest. "Don't play hard to get you idiot." Laughing loudly Harry pulls me over onto his chair so I'm straddling his lap and sinks into my kiss, his lips responding and hungrily moving against mine. Hmm, I think this is probably my favourite way to pass excess time...  
For some reason Harry doesn't want me to get dressed too early, he keeps making futile excuses and comes up with silly things that we still have to do - like cleaning my fridge, what the hell? - and it's not until I finally stand in front of him in my suit that I understand why.  
"Fucking hell." Turning away from me he leans against the wall, his eyes closed tightly as he swallows harshly.  
"This is why. This is why I wanted you to get dressed as late as possible because now we really have to get going otherwise we'll be late. If we'd have more time we'd never make it out of this room today, not with the way you look. Do you have any idea how much I want to just fuck you senseless right now?" Harry breathes and my heart stutters almost painfully in my chest. F-fuck me senseless? Yes please.  
"But..." I try to object but Harry just shakes his head.   
"No, Lou. It's my job to make sure that you're on time. If we don't get going right now we'll both be in serious trouble. C'mon." Seeing the determined look on his face I know that there's no way to convince him of anything else, even though I really wouldn't mind skipping the dinner tonight for a total power-exchange with him. No, I wouldn't mind at all. Damn, why does he have to be so damn responsible?  
Watching Harry get dressed I get a good idea of what he meant when he said that he wanted to fuck me senseless in my outfit. The way he looks should be forbidden, honestly. His curls are still wet from the shower he took not too long ago, small droplets of water dripping onto his torso and running down his bare chest, making his skin glisten and my throat tighten.   
"Black shirt or white shirt? Louis?" He asks again and I quickly glance up from where I've been staring at his legs, a blush creeping over my face. But damn, why do his legs look so fucking amazing in striped pants? I laughed out loud when he pulled them out of his closet, black and white striped pants, I mean come on? I thought they'd look ridiculous. But once he'd pulled them up his legs I wasn't laughing anymore, not in the slightest. Instead I found myself sitting there quietly with my mouth wide open and my heart pounding in my chest, already sporting a semi just from looking at him. Screw him and his adonis body.  
"Uhm, black." I manage to mumble and watch almost in trance as he pulls the black shirt over his head. I'm just about to whine at the loss of view of his chest when he turns back around and the whine gets stuck somewhere in my throat, sending me into an embarrassing fit of coughs.   
"You alright there?" Harry asks once I've calmed down, clearly amused and highly satisfied by my reaction. But fuck, what does he expect?   
"Uh. Yeah. Why...why do you even bother to put on a shirt when you leave it almost unbuttoned anyway?" I wonder out loud, my eyes never leaving his tan chest that is visible through the halfway unbuttoned shirt.   
"Gotta be decent, Louis." He explains and I snort.   
"Decent? This is not decent Harry, it's torture."   
"Torture?" Harry wonders, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise and I laugh weakly. Does he really have no idea how amazing he looks?   
"You said you wanted to fuck me senseless in this suit, well, back at you Styles." I watch as his eyes widen, realisation rushing over his face and then he looks down at himself, those damn striped pants and the unbuttoned shirt and when he looks up at me, his eyes are playful once again.   
"I better button this shirt up then don't I?" he suggests and I nod weakly, everything inside me screaming 'HELL NO' but of course I know it's for the best. Because the way he looks right now I'd jump him every chance I get and of course we can't do that tonight, no need to torture ourselves.  
But when his fingers hesitate against the fabric of his shirt and he breathes a dark "Want to help me, Louis?" I know that I have to take this chance right now because I probably won't get another one tonight. So I eagerly jump up from where I've been sitting on his bed and march over to him, grabbing his shirt and pulling hard so he stumbles against me, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. I take the opportunity to slide my tongue into his mouth, knowing that we don't have any time to waste.  
Groaning he responds immediately and wraps his arms around me, pulling me flush against his body until there's literally no space left between us. His large hands travel down my body, over my back only to settle on the curve of my bum, squeezing it gently and I can't help but moan into his mouth, the semi I had earlier hardening quickly and turning into something increasingly more difficult...  
____ 

 

"You ready Harold?" I yell and make my way over to the car, whistling quietly. Thanks to our heated make-out session in his bedroom we're actually going to be a bit late. I said Harry turns me into a proper good guy but maybe I'm corrupting him instead? Somehow the thought makes me smile. Corrupting Harry, hmm...  
When I get no answer from him I turn around to see him standing by the door, the keys still in his hand, his face ashen.  
"Harry?" I ask cautiously and move back towards him, ready to face whatever it is that has him so shocked.  
"Please...please don't call me Harold, Lou." He smiles weakly but when it doesn't reach his eyes it hits me that this is more than just some dislike towards a silly nickname.  
"Okay? Harry, what's going on?" And I can see the war behind his eyes, his internal struggle about whether or not he wants to tell me. I don't interrupt him, I just watch him carefully and let him fight his battle in his head until he finally sighs deeply.  
"Someone..." he starts very carefully, his eyes set on the ground in front of our feet instead of my face. "Someone very close to me used to call me that." Someone very close to him? For a moment I feel jealousy sweeping through me, an ex-boyfriend of his? But something about his choice of words bugs me. Used to. He said that before, in the museum. 'My sister used to love Monet, he was her favourite artist.' His sister. She used to love art, she used to call him Harold. What happened to her?  
"Harry, is this..." I start but I'm interrupted with the frantic shake of his head.  
"Please, Lou, I don't want to talk about it." I want to argue, want to push him to tell me what this is about like I usually would with everyone else but there's something in his eyes, a pain that he tries and fails to hide from me and I just can't, I can't push him. It wouldn't be right.   
"Okay." I mumble and gaze up at him, noticing that his eyes are on the floor again so I reach out for his chin and tip his head up, forcing him to meet my eyes. I need him to look at me for what I'm about to say next, need him to understand that I mean it.  
"Okay, Harry, I won't push you. But I know something is wrong, I can see your pain. So if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here." I watch him carefully, watch as the small smile on his face becomes something more genuine and the sparkle in his eyes returns.   
"Thank you Lou."   
"I mean it, Harry," I emphasise again, truly meaning it with my whole heart. I can't bear to see him in pain, to know that something is bothering him. I need him to be okay. But knowing that words alone can't express what I want to say I lean up onto my tippy toes, my hands coming to rest on his shoulders, and press a single kiss to his forehead, right above the crease in his skin that his usual frown etched into it, and I slowly feel him relax completely.  
"Cmon Curly, we have a party to rock."  
____

 

To call this event a party is probably the exaggeration of the year. It's a proper sit-down dinner in one of London's most fancy hotels and I'm bored to death already even though I haven't even arrived yet. The only person that could make this event worth a damn is Harry, and he's the one person that I need to stay away from as far away as possible tonight if we don't want bedroom 2.0.  
The car door is opened and I blink into the flashing lights of the cameras to spot Harry smiling down at me.  
"Loads of paps and fans here. Let's go." He explains when I get out of the car and I nod, eyeing the crowd that has gathered in front of the hotel. How do these people even find out where these events take place? Stalkerism gone mad?  
Harry links one of his arms through mine to lead me through the crowd and I try not to relax against him, try not to react to his touch but damn, it's hard when everything inside me just wants to wrap my arms around him and snog him senseless. I just about manage to hold myself together, though, and so we make it inside safely without any interruptions.   
Tom greets us with a broad smile and nods approvingly when he sees my attire.  
"Louis, you look good man. Proper suit, eh?" He laughs and playfully punches my arm.  
"Of course, just for you Tommy. You say jump, I jump." I declare and then we break into a fit of laughter, both of us knowing too well that that couldn't be further from the truth.   
"Nah, I suppose this is rather your work, isn't it Styles?" Tom asks and luckily turns to greet Harry with a firm handshake so he doesn't see me freezing. Harry doesn't react in the slightest, he just shrugs it off and replies with a casual "I'm trying my best, Mr. Parker" but the way he exhales a bit too deeply once Tom changes the topic tells me that he, too, got nervous for a moment. Damn this game of hide and seek we have going on here.   
"Alright, there's a few people here that would like to meet you. The club manager of ManU for example, and there's a few people from European clubs as well, Munich, Barcelona, Lazio... If you'd excuse us for a moment, Harry?" Tom asks, turning around to face Harry againwho nods his consent, waving us away and I can't do anything but shoot him an apologetic glance, hating to be dragged away from him like that but what can I do? This might look like a nice dinner party but in fact, it's die-hard business. So I find myself get dragged around the room for an hour, a glass of champagne in my hand that I barely touch while manager after manager, player after player talks to me and soon my head starts spinning with all the names and opportunities that come along with it. I've completely lost sight of Harry, I can only hope that he's alright and not bored to death somewhere, he doesn't even know a single person here. Well, there's some other bodyguards here, maybe he knows some of them. But knowing Harry he's probably standing somewhere in this room, hidden away but watching me with a glass of orange juice in his hand. Somehow, I find that thought immensely comforting.

 

"Louis Tomlinson! Is that you man?" A slightly familiar voice comes from behind me and I spin around to see a broad guy with short brown hair and warm, puppy-dog eyes smiling widely at me.  
"Liam!" I shout loudly, not caring about the annoyed glances I get and instead throwing my arms around the friend that I haven't seen for so long.  
"Where the hell have you run off to Payno?"   
"Mate, I'm in Paris. St. Germain snatched me up two years ago, it's insane!" Paris, whoa. That's so cool, I might be just a tiny bit jealous. I mean, St Germain is a good club, not as internationally successful as we are but still, and living in Paris? That must be ace.  
"Paris? That's fucking awesome Payno! How on earth did you manage that?"   
"Dunno, this one guy from the club came to one of our games when I was still playing in Manchester and then before I knew it I was moving to France."   
"Quite the change, hm? So you speak French now?" I wonder, remembering how much Liam always hated foreign languages back when we went to school. He'd always complain about his Spanish teacher during practice when we were both still playing in Manchester's Youth Club.  
"Oui, Non, Peut-être?" Liam laughs, shaking his head. "Mate, you know how much I hate languages. Those damn arrogant Parisians hate me for it but I'm not touching French, not at all. Puts my tongue in knots that language, and I still need my tongue." Throwing me a knowing glance he adds, "loads of nice French ladies to snog. You should come visit me and then we'll have a stroll around the bars and maybe find us both some company for the night, how's that sounding?" The thing is, Louis from two months ago would've booked a flight right this second and would've run off to Paris to snog and fuck every single good-looking French girl he could find. But now? Just the thought of touching someone, kissing someone other than Harry makes me feel sick in the stomach in a way I never thought was possible to me so I just shrug.  
"Uh, yeah. I'll definitely have to visit you, see what Paris has to offer." I reply evasively, thinking, wow, Tommo, you're a sneaky one – but of course Liam sees right through me.  
"Are you okay there Louis? I would've expected you to do backflips at the thought of all those girls, what happened?"   
"Oh, nothing," I explain quickly, maybe a bit too quickly seeing as the confused look on Liam's face shifts into a knowing smile.  
"Okay Louis, tell me everything about her. Who snatched you up? Who is she, is she here?" And something about the way Liam immediately assumes that it's a girl, doesn't even consider that it could be a man sends anger cursing through my veins.  
"You're talking bullshit, mate." I hiss and see Liams smile fade into a look of utter confusion, making his puppy eyes look even bigger and rounder than usual from where they're looking down at me. Great, Payno, now you're making me feel bad. Thank you very much, I think gruffly and open my mouth to apologise.  
"Sorry Liam, you hit a nerve. Just drop it please, okay?" I beg, hoping that Liam will just go with it and change the topic. Of course he doesn't.  
"Okay, Louis, but..." Luckily the voice of the event's organiser comes through the speaker a moment later, interrupting us and asking everyone to move to their tables for dinner. I breathe a silent prayer of relief and turn to Liam with what I hope to be a regretful look.  
"Look, they're calling for dinner. It was lovely to see you again, I'll definitely visit you in Paris as soon as I can alright?" I offer and Liam nods, already smiling again.  
"Okay mate. We so need to go out for a drink or two while I'm in town Louis, I'm staying until next Tuesday. Call me up maybe?" A business card is shoved into my hand and then Liam's gone, disappearing into the crowd to find his table and I'm left alone to find out where the fuck I'm supposed to be sitting.  
I'm studying the seating plan, my eyes scanning the paper for my name when a voice from behind me announces, "Table 7, just to the left of the stage."   
Looking up my eyes meet green ones, sparkling with mild amusement at my perplex face.   
"Uhm, thanks I guess." Harry just shrugs it off and begins pushing his way through the crowd that has begun to move into the ballroom, turning around to make sure that I'm following him.   
"Where are you sitting?" I wonder, hoping that he won't be in a completely different room because he's 'just' a bodyguard.  
"Table 26 with the other guards," Harry announces and I sigh in relief. At least that means that I'll probably get to see him during dinner, which immensely brightens my mood.  
"Other end of the ballroom." He continues and points to a table at the very far end of the room and there goes my brightened mood. Dammit, no eyesex for us then.   
I can just about keep the disappointed grumble in when we reach my table and Harry turns to face me once more.   
"Did you enjoy yourself so far tonight?"   
"It wasn't too bad. After talking to tons of important people I met a childhood friend, Liam, and we chatted for a bit. He's playing in Paris now, how cool is that?"  
"I love Paris, great place." Harry agrees with a smile, his eyes growing distant as if he's lost in a memory, a moment far away from this one. "La vie Parisienne est la meilleure." Wait, what? Holy shit. Something deep inside my belly clenches deliciously while I stare at Harry with wide eyes. Stupidly pretty, tall, educated Harry. Of course he speaks French. Of course.  
"You...you speak French?" I manage to croak, my voice suddenly an octave higher than usual and Harry grins, obviously noticing my lack of composure.  
"Mais bien sûre. I learned French in school, my parents had their honeymoon in Paris and went back to France every summer. I haven't been there for a few years now but the French kind of stuck." I notice something cloudy wash over his face when Harry admits that he hasn't been to France for a while and a decision is made inside of me before I even have time to think about it properly. Before I can say anything, though, a handful of my teammates join us at the table and Harry straightens up, the warmth in his eyes growing cold as he slips back into his professional bodyguard mode.   
"I should get going. Have a good even, Mr. Tomlinson, I'll see you later." With polite nods towards my mates he turns around to leave and I have to stay here, frozen in place with a stupid fake smile on my face and can't do anything but watch him make his way towards the table. As soon as we sit down, though, I fish my phone out of my pocket and type a quick message to Mr. Cute and Deadly.

 

To: Mr. Cute and Deadly, 8:12 pm

 

I'll take you to Paris, soon. 

 

I scan the room, looking for the table he pointed to earlier and sure enough, I spot him sitting there surrounded by buff guys in their late thirties or forties, a half-empty glass of orange juice in front of him that immediately brings a smile to my face. He's facing the stage but I can see his features clearly, even though he's far away. He looks down in confusion, I suppose it's because his phone buzzed and yep, sure enough, a few seconds later he reaches into the pocket of his pants – those damn tight, striped pants that still have my blood singing in my veins, don't ask me how he manages to squeeze a phone into them – and pulls his phone out. He looks up at me for a moment, confusion clear on his features and I nod at him with a smile, encouraging him to read it. He does, and a moment later the most beautiful smile spreads over his face, making him glow brighter than the candles that are set up around the room. Christ. Swallowing becomes impossible when he ducks his head down to hide his smile, curls falling to cover his face while he tries to regain his composure but I can still see it, the happiness that keeps tugging up the corners of his mouth no matter how hard he tries to fight it. And in this moment I realise that this is all I want, this is what I want to do. I want to make him smile so bright that his eyes crinkle and his mouth starts hurting because in this moment, he's the most beautiful person on this planet to me.

 

I find myself squished between Daniel, one of our keepers, and another teammate's sister, I think her name was Brittany. I've met her a few times before and after our games, she's nice enough company so I think I can't really complain. Everyone at my table is either on my team or related to/dating someone from the team and I know them all well enough so the conversation flows easily between us twelve as we chat through dinner.   
Harry and I kept exchanging glances and secret smiles throughout the night, both of us smiling into our glasses every time our eyes met – which happened quite often, to be honest. Whoopsie.   
I look up once again, my eyes searching for his across the room and when they find them I frown, seeing Harry's sour expression. What is he on about? Looking closely I notice that he's not even looking me in the eye but rather staring down at where Brittany's hand is resting on my arm in a friendly gesture while she tells me some story about her brother when he was 5 years old, and I realise with a start that Harry is jealous. It does wicked things to my insides. And suddenly I remember his overly amused reaction to my jealousy when fucking Eva from Louis Vuitton was all over him yesterday. Maybe it's payback time tonight? I nod, stupidly pleased with my plan and cast a quick glance at Harry to make sure that he's still watching – he is – before I lean into Brittany a bit more, laugh a little louder at her jokes and put on my best Tommo smile, the one that usually has girls swooning within seconds. Brittany is actually taken and has a little son, but of course Harry doesn't know that. And the way his expression darkens the more I focus on Brittany is proof enough that my game is working. Bring it on, Styles.  
When dinner ends and waiters go around to offer coffee and tea the first people begin to get up and stand together in little groups. I join the majority of my team where they're standing to my left, just talking and joking around like they usually do.   
There's enough ladies around, girlfriends and sisters and secretaries and I make full use of every single one of them, greeting them all with a kiss to their cheeks, resting my hands on their hips or waist, smiling down at them all while feeling Harry's eyes burn holes into my back. And I can't deny that I love it. I love winding him up a little, love to see that dark look in his eyes and knowing that I'm the one who caused it. I love that he's jealous because it shows that he cares. He cares he cares he cares.

 

"Mr. Tomlinson? May I have a word with you?" A sharp voice cuts right through our conversation and I look up to see a very angry Harry towering over me, his dark eyes set on my hand that rests on Michael's cousin's hip. Crap. I nod dutifully and excuse myself from the others, ignoring their sympathetic glances, then follow Harry out into the hallway. As soon as we're out of sight he grabs my wrist without a word and pulls me through the hotel into one of the private the bathrooms, it's empty. My heart is beating erratically in my chest when he loudly locks the door and then pulls on it to make sure that it's closed.  
"What do you think you're doing Louis?" Harry hisses and spins around to face me, his eyes stormy.  
"What do you mean?" I ask innocently, blinking up at him through my lashes.  
"Are you trying to make me jealous?" So my game is working then, I guess?  
"Are you jealous?"   
Instead of an answer he pushes me up against the cold tiles of the wall and smashes his lips against mine almost bruisingly hard, his tongue slipping into my mouth instantly. I can't help but gasp at his sudden assault but while my mind still struggles to keep up with what's happening my body responds immediately, my hands tangling into his hair, pulling him down to me until all the space between us is erased.   
We're all clashing teeth and tangled lips and entwined bodies until Harry suddenly pulls away, a frown on his still dark face.  
"Do you want those girls, Louis? Is it them you want?" he barks, still pressing me into the wall with the entire length of his body so I can't do anything but shake my head at him.  
"No, I don't, only want you," I pant, my heart pounding in my chest.  
"Then why are you flirting with them, Louis? Why do you do this?" Harry demands to know, his voice still rough but his eyes have lightened a bit at my admission.  
"You're hot when you're jealous," I admit with a helpless shrug because honestly, there's nothing I can do against my feelings for him. They're ridiculous and silly and growing way too fast but what am I supposed to do?  
"Am I now?" The Styles smirk is back in place and I know that this storm is over, thank god.  
"Can't you tell?" I wink up at him and lift my hips to meet his, wiggling against his body suggestively so he can feel my hard-on digging into his thigh.   
"Hmm, this has potential...." Harry lazily strokes his hand up and down my thigh and every single nerve in my body lights up as my muscles tighten with anticipation.  
"What shall we do to you, Louis?" he wonders seemingly innocent, a long finger tapping against the corner of his mouth while the other hand starts travelling up my thigh to the waistband of my pants, and I hold my breath.  
"Do...do to me?" I breathe, my body so wound up already that I flinch when he suddenly reaches around me to pinch my bum.  
"I'm going to wreck you, Louis." And those 6 words hold so many promises, so much potential that my brain shuts off completely and my body takes over.  
Seeing Harry on his knees in front of me, in the bathroom of a fucking 5* hotel in London, with all those managers and important people just a few metres away - it's heaven. Pure fucking heaven.   
Groaning I focus on the sight in front of me, on the way Harry's plump lips stretch around my cock as he moves his mouth up and down my shaft, his sparkling eyes never leaving mine. And fuck, I've gotten so many blowjobs in my life but this? This is so dirty, so forbidden, so amazingly hot that I know I won't last long, not with the way Harry seems to know exactly where to touch me to send me into total madness. And the worst, or maybe the best thing, I don't know, is that I can see how much he loves this. He loves doing this to me, that delighted spark in his eyes says it all and the realisation hits me hard, sends me flying so much higher towards my goal that I can't help but let out a loud moan that he returns, his mouth vibrating around me and fuck....  
I'm close, so damn close...and suddenly, Harry stops. I can't quite stop the embarrassing whine that escapes my lips at the loss of his mouth on me and stare down at him, pouting.  
"That's what you've been doing to me all night, Lou. Torturing me with the way you look and the way you were flirting with others."   
"I'm sorry, Harry, please..." I whimper, lifting my hips in the hopes that he'll continue but instead he presses his mouth to the inside of my thigh, sucking a mark into my skin. Hmm, close but not quite where I want him.   
"Will you do it again?" he asks, eyebrows raised with wicked delight and I frantically shake my head no.  
"No, no Harry, never, just...please." I beg again, so so desperate. I'm so close, so hard it's hurting and I need him, need him to wreck me right now.   
"Good boy." And then his mouth is back on me, his lips wrapping around me, his tongue circling my tip and the combination of his words, his mouth and the way he looks up at me, so fucking wrecked with his hair a mess and his eyes shining, it's all it takes to send me into a powerful orgasm, exploding into his mouth while I completely lose control.  
When I regain my senses I open my eyes to find Harry palming himself through his boxers, his striped pants pooling at his feet, and I nearly combust again then and there. Fucking hell, why is this so hot? I regain control over my body just in time to pull him in for a kiss when he comes gloriously into his boxers, swallowing his moans with my mouth. Seeing my questioning glance at the pants he pulled down he just smiles lazily, pupils dilated and cheeks tinted a glowing pink, and points to the stain that has spread across the front of his boxers.  
"Can't stain these pants that you seem to like so much can we?"

 

 

Harry parks in front of my house, the headlights turned off in the dark night and he turns to look at me, his face dipped in shadows by the faint lights from the street lamps. We both know that he can't come in, not with the amount of paps that followed our car from the hotel all the way to my street. Who knows how many of them are still around?  
"Despite everything, Iactually had a good time tonight. What about you?" It's true, tonight really was a good night. I used to hate events like these, and in all honesty, today was just as boring as any of these dinners before but somehow Harry managed to make it worth my while. Just like he always does. Harry even manages to make museums interesting, a dinner party is nothing compared to that.  
"Oh, it was alright. They have nice bathrooms at Claridge's, you know?" I'm met with a wicked grin and can't help but chuckle, thinking back to the way Harry looked with his messy hair and his pants pooling at his ankles.   
"Very nice indeed." I agree and we just smile at each other for a moment, both of us lost in thoughts and memories.   
"You know, I really wanted to peel this suit off of you and then fuck you," Harry sighs regretfully and lets his eyes travel over my body, heating my skin without even touching it.   
"I can always put it back on next time you're here," I assure him and see him biting his lip in response.  
"I might actually take your word for that, Tomlinson."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just haaaaad to make Harry wear the striped pants because I saw him live in them and fuck, I pretty much reacted like Louis did. Well, without the hard-on of course. And I didn't get to jump him in those pants, too bad.   
> Anyway, I hope you like this story, if you have any ideas/criticism/things you want to say please let me know, feedback is always more than welcome. I'm very excited for this story, I hope it turns out beautifully   
> Have a good day/night wherever you are.  
> All the love,  
> Lily x


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda short, my apologies but meh. You know how it is when you desperately want to write but your motivation and inspiration has gone running for the hills. Anyway, I hope this is not too terrible so happy reading.  
> All the love,  
>  Lily x

I wake up to the sound of my alarm ringing and sit up in my bed, genuinely confused. It's Sunday morning and it's 7:30 am. What the hell. Why? Groaning I turn off the alarm on my phone and roll over in my bed when it hits me - my family. Fuck, I'm supposed to go to Doncaster today. Why on earth did I ever agree to this? But I know I can't cancel, I haven't seem my family for far too long and I know they miss me, a lot. I miss them too, but...I'm 23. I'm living my own life. It doesn't mean that I love them less, it just means that I have my own life to take care of. But I know that I've been a dick to them lately so I roll out of bed and carry my tired body into the shower, hoping that the cold water will wake me up. It does, and when I finally emerge from the bathroom I feel a lot better. I decide to go to the Starbucks around the corner for some coffee and a muffin, too lazy to make breakfast for myself even though my fridge is sufficiently filled, courtesy of Harry. Hmm, Harry. I wouldn't mind waking up to the smell of his pancakes coming from the kitchen, but life is complicated. Meh.  
But still, almost without thinking I pull out my phone and type a quick message.

To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 7:53  
Morning Curly. x 

 

After that I stuff my phone back into the pocket of my jeans and make the quick walk down to the Starbucks, and I definitely don't wait impatiently for it to buzz, nope. I'm not longing for Harry to text me to disperse the boredom, not at all. But my phone doesn't buzz until I'm back home, settled on the couch with a latte in my hand and a muffin on my lap. I nearly spill the coffee in my rush to pick up the phone and when I look at the screen I nearly scream in frustration. It's from Tom, a message in our team groupchat where he sent us some link to an online newspaper that apparently posted a lot of pictures from Friday night. Well, great. I don't really care about the pictures but I'm bored so I click on the link anyway. There's picture after picture of people standing in groups or pairs, chatting and holding glasses of wine or champagne in their hands. There's even one of Liam and me, laughing - probably at his horrendous attempt at speaking French that night. The pictures are nice but nothing really catches my mind, they're just more or less important people in suits, until....fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I swallow harshly, the piece of muffin I had in my mouth getting stuck in my throat making be break into a coughing fit until tears run down my face, but I can't drag my eyes away from the picture on my phone because fuck. Its a picture of Harry. And me. When he led me to my table, just before my teammates arrived. He's standing next to me, tall and with tousled hair, looking so absolutely fantastic in his tight striped jeans and black shirt that I feel like a potato next to him. But that's not what gets me, what makes my heart stutter. It's the look on our faces. He smiles down at me, his eyes glowing and his dimpled cheeks flushed while I grin up at him, eyes wide and shining. We look happy. Is that how I always look around him? And is that how he always looks around me? Well shit. Some small part deep inside of me hopes that it is, that I make him as happy as he makes me, but the larger part of me focuses on the space between our bodies, on the distance we had to keep between us and I want nothing more than to erase it. I want a picture where Harry can wrap his arms around my waist and maybe kiss my cheek while I cover his hand around my waist with mine. I desperately, desperately want that. But I know that I can't have it, and even though it hurts I know it's for the best.   
I immediately save the picture though, and I'm just about to set it as my lockscreen picture when my finger stops, hovering over the screen. I can't do this. What if my friends see it? How do I explain that I have a picture of my bodyguard and me as my lockscreen? No, I can't. So with a frustrated groan I press 'cancel' and stuff my phone into my pocket, pick up the bag I packed for today and head towards my car, frustrated because of the picture and because I can't openly have the man I want and because said man isn't texting me back. Harry Harry Harry, always Harry on my mind. It's unhealthy, really, but what can I do?

Sighing, I sink into the soft leather seat of my Audi and head off towards the M40. The road is familiar, yes, but not as familiar as it should be. It's been forever since I last visited my family up in Doncaster, I realise as I weave through London's early morning traffic, cursing to myself when some asshole decides to drive as slow as humanly possible in front of me. It takes ages until I finally hit the M40 and press down on the gas, reveling in the way my Audi moves. Even though I'm not allowed to go very fast, God dammit. Maybe I should just move to Germany, their Autobahn is amazing, I muse, remembering that one weekend I spent in Germany when we had a game against Bayern Munich. We lost, which was shit but I remember being driven down the Autobahn in a large Mercedes, easily hitting 130 mph and still going faster... Fuck speed limits.  
I'm rudely ripped out of my reverie when my phone rings in the cradle next to the wheel. One look at the screen and my heart starts beating impossibly faster so I hastily accept the call.  
"Harry, hi."  
"Good morning, Louis. Why on earth were you up so early?" Harrys rough voice is low in confusion and I can almost picture the frown on his face, the deep crease between his brows.  
"Told you I have to go up to Donny to visit my family today, remember?"   
"Of course I remember, Lou, I just didn't think you'd to this early. Thought you were unable to function before noon."   
"I usually am, and I was bored to death eating my breakfast so I texted you but you didn't text me back, were you still asleep Styles? I thought you were a man of the early hours." I joke back, grinning when his chuckle comes through the line.  
"I am, Louis, I am. Went for a jog, that's why I didn't text you back." He...what? My mouth drops open, releasing a noise between a laugh and a gasp.  
"What the fuck," I say deadpan, "Only you Styles. Only you would go for a jog at 8 in the morning on a fucking Sunday." Can you believe him? How on earth is he so active and organized and gah. It's true, I can't even function before noon and he...  
"I have to exercise, Louis, it's part of my job."  
"Yeah, but you don't have to exercise in the middle of the night!"   
"I like watching the sunrise while I'm running, though." Harry defends and I can't decide whether I'm supposed to be completely terrified or enraptured because my god, could someone be any more adorable?   
"You're nuts, styles." I mutter, glad that he can't see the soppy smile on my face.   
"You love it," is his swift reply and my breath hitches in my throat.   
"I do." And to get and cover up that my voice goes all soft and sappy I add a growled, "fucking hell, you dickhead, drive faster." Even though there isn't even anyone in front of me. But oh well. Harry doesn't know that, so who cares.  
"Wait, Lou, you're driving?" Harry gasps and I nod, then remember that he can't see it.  
"Yeah. So?"  
"Fuck, Louis, you can't talk to people on the phone while you're driving, it's dangerous." And I can hear it, the worry in his voice and I know where it will lead so I quickly defend myself.  
"I do it all the time, Harry. I'm used to it."  
"Still, Louis. You need to be focused on the driving, not on talking to me. I don't want to be the reason for you to crash into a tree, I don't want to kill you Lou."  
"You're killing me every day." I mumble before I can stop myself and immediately hold my breath.   
There's a long moment of silence at the other end of the line, and when Harry speaks up again his voice is much softer.  
"Louis, please. It's not safe. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Have fun with your family and drive safely." And before I can say anything else the line goes dead, but instead of being frustrated I feel stupidly pleased, and a silly grin takes over my face when I realise that he really does care about me and my safety. He cares.  
______________

The house hasn't changed at all since the last time I was here, but then again why should it? So I walk up the familiar path to the door like I have so many times before, but I don't get very far until the door is flung open and two little bodies throw themselves at me, hugging my legs.   
"Daisy, Phoebs, let your brother live please." My Mum scolds but the big smile on her face matches theirs and I know that's she's just as excited that I'm here.  
Mum hugs me tightly when I reach her and for a moment I fear that she's never going to let me go but eventually she does, trying to hide her wet eyes by hastily turning around and leading me into the house. Much to my surprise my grandparents are sitting in the kitchen, steaming cups of tea in front of them. Wow, what?  
"We has to come over Louis, we haven't seen you for so long so when your Mum said you'd come we knew we had to be here." My grandpa explains and then I'm hugged and kissed and thousands of questions are thrown at me while I struggle to answer them all. Luckily my sisters and my brother are easily distracted by the toys and gifts I brought them so soon it's just my grandparents, my Mum and her husband Dan around the table and the conversations flows easily while we devour my Mums infamous cheesecake. It's lovely being back and I can't help but feel at easy in a way that I haven't for so long, sitting here on the familiar creaking bench in the kitchen, watching my siblings play in the living room and my Mum shuffling around in the kitchen. It feels a lot like it did when I was younger, the entire big family crammed into our fairly small house, everyone living on top of each other. There were always little fights, little clashes but never anything serious, that's what family is for I guess. And sitting here now, watching these people that I love, I realise just how much I've missed them so I make a silent vow to myself, promising that I'll never stay away for so long again. 

 

"It's good to have you here, Lou." My Mum sighs and when I look up I see that what I've avoided all day has happened: I'm alone with her in the kitchen. And being alone with her means that I'll no doubt be questioned about a certain curly haired someone.   
"You've gotten better at cooking," my Mum observes, eyeing my hands that chop the pepper for tonight. I'm nowhere near as skilfully fast as Harry but then again I don't think that's quite possible.  
"Harry...he's a good cook. Brilliant, actually. When he's there he always forces me to help him cook." I reply, knowing that she's gonna ask about Harry anyway so why not make the first step. My mind wanders back to the first time we were in my kitchen together, to 'How do you whisk' and the way we got so lost in each other that the pancakes had turned cold by the time we finally managed to eat them...  
"This Harry...so you really like him?"  
"I don't know Mum. You know me, I don't really 'like' people, not permanently. But he...we went shopping together once and this girl was all over him, of course I knew that she's not really a threat because Harry is absolutely gay but fuck, I was so jealous."  
"You were jealous?" my mum wonders, eyebrows raised expectantly and I chuckle to myself, remembering the way I was practically seething with rage. Poor Eva.  
"Yeah. I think I was quite rude to the poor girl." I admit, making my Mum giggle into her tea.  
"When are you ever not rude, Louis Tomlinson." she jokes and I pretend to be offended, one hand coming to rest over my heart. "You wound me, mother."   
"Oh, shut it Louis." Laughing I push away the spatula that she waves into my face and return to chopping the peppers, ignoring my mothers eyes on me. If she has something to say she'll speak up, I suppose.   
"So you and this Harry, it's serious?" She gently probes after a few minutes of silence and I stop my movements and put down the knife. Serious? Is it serious? I don't know. We never actually talked about it. I definitely know that I like him, a lot. Too much maybe. But I don't know how he feels. He never said anything other than that he wants me, but what does that really mean? That he wants me for my body? As a fucktoy? Somehow the thought sends an eery cold down my spine. And even if he did want me for me, even if it could be 'serious', how is that supposed to work? We can't be together, at least not openly. And would I really agree to a life of hide and seek just to be with him? Yes, you would Tommo, a voice inside me mumbles but I ignore it and turn to face my mum, shrugging.   
"I don't know Mum. It's so complicated." I sigh because yes, it's complicated and that's probably the easiest way to put it.   
"Why is it complicated?" Mum wonders, a genuinely confused frown on her face and I sigh again, wondering how I'm supposed to explain this to her. Before I can say anything, though, she speaks up again.  
"It's not because you're scared to be gay, is it? You don't have to be scared Louis, we don't have a problem with it at all. You're my baby, Louis, my biggest baby but still my baby and nothing will ever change that. You'll always be my baby, no matter if you're gay or straight or bi or if you decide to become celibate and live in a monastery." And despite the seriousness of the topic, despite her sweet words I find myself bursting into a fit of laughter at that last bit because honestly, me and celibate? No thanks, not ever. My Mum joins my laughter and we just stand there in the kitchen, facing each other and laughing together and it's so nice. And suddenly I realise how much I've missed my Mum, my family in general. And somehow the realisation hits me hard and my laughter dies down as quickly as it came.  
"I know Mum, I know that you won't judge me. But I'm a footballer. Footballer are not gay, ever."   
"So you're afraid that being with him will ruin your career?" Mum questions, worry clear in her eyes and I nod.  
"And not just mine..." I whisper before I can stop myself and watch as confusion washes over her face.  
"What do you mean? I thought you said that he isn't a footballer?" Oh Mum, my sweet naive mum. Can I tell her? I know that she wouldn't ever say a word to anyone about it so our secret would be safe with her but the truth is, I can't help but feel ashamed. 'I'm fucking my bodyguard,' could you sound any cheaper? Except that I don't feel cheap when I'm with him, not at all but I know how society works and I know what society will think.   
"Louis, what's going on?" Mum demands, grabbing my elbow to turn me around so I have to face her, and when I see the sympathy, the worry in her eyes something inside of me snaps.   
"He's my bodyguard." I whisper and close my eyes, my body slumping weakly against the counter while I wait for the storm to come. Except that it doesn't.  
"Oh. So you can't openly be together because he isn't allowed to date a client and because footballers aren't allowed to be gay?" And my mums voice is so gentle, so warm and not at all judging that I can't do anything but nod, my knees weak with relief.   
"Oh Lou, society sucks doesn't it?" And then I'm pulled into her arms and I go willingly, let her hug me tightly and press kisses to my cheek like she used to when I was little and upset because we lost a game.   
"And I'm so confused, I don't know what is happening to me. I'm not gay, Mum, I don't think I am. I guess I'm..I'm 'Harry Styles only' maybe?" I laugh weakly and feel my mums own chuckle against my cheek. "I always liked girls, I never felt like anything was missing. I'm not attracted to other guys, not at all. But Harry...fuck."   
"As I said over the phone, Louis, some people do that to you. They make your entire worldview shift. Besides, he's very handsome so I can understand where you're coming from."   
"Mum!" I yell, officially horrified, and pull away to see the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.   
"What, all I'm saying is that you have a great taste. He's extremely good looking Louis, so I can see why he has you so captured."   
"How on earth do you even know what he looks like?" I wonder, deciding to not dwell on the creepy fact that my Mum finds the guy that I'm fucking attractive too. Too odd.  
"I google you, Louis, regularly. Since you have a habit of ignoring us it's the only way to keep up with what's going on in your life, that and calling Tom. He told me about you having a bodyguard so when I saw pictures with this handsome tall curly guy by your side I figured that it's him." Oh okay, that makes sense. Trying to ignore the stab of guilt I feel I pull out my phone and open up the picture of us I saved earlier, the one from the dinner on Friday.   
"Here, the most recent one." I mumble and show it to my Mum who immediately breaks into a fit of 'awww's.   
"You look so good together, so happy. You're such a pretty couple, both of you so handsome." she gushes and I blush, nodding without moving my eyes from Harry's face.   
"He is, yeah. But that's not all its about. He's gorgeous, yes, but he's so much more than that. He's so smart mum, and so cultivated. He loves reading and art and he speaks French, for fucks sake. French! And he loves cooking and he's so gentle and funny and caring but at the same time he's really bossy and domineering and..." I sigh dramatically, throwing my hands up in the air and trying to ignore the creepy fond smile on my Mums face.  
"And you say you're not sure if you like him properly? You say it's not serious? Because Lou, this sounds pretty serious to me." What? Uhm.  
"No, no Mum it's not like that, I just...I'm so confused."   
"I can see that Lou. And hell, that's one mess of a situation, but you know, if he's the one he's gonna be worth fighting for. I know that it won't be easy to choose between him and your career but..."  
"It's not just about my career." I interrupt her, my hands balled to fists in frustration. "It's about his too. Even if I decide that he's more important than football, maybe he won't feel the same about me? And even if hendoes, can I really ask him to do that? Can I ask him to give up on his career for me?"  
"That's going to be his choice, Lou, you won't have to ask him to do anything. If he decides that you're more important then take it, accept it because it's his own choice."   
"But...he could go to jail if people find out. We're in a contractual business relationship, it's forbidden to...you know..." I mumble and my heart sinks. I couldn't live with myself if he went to jail because of me, I just couldn't.   
"How long is your contract?"  
"A year." I whisper and drop my gaze to the floor, a sickening feeling spreading in my stomach. A year. A fucking entire year.   
"A year isn't that long Lou," my Mum says and lifts her hand to gently brush my fringe out of my face. "You just have to be patient. Make it through this year and see where it gets you, see how you feel after this year. And once the contract is void you can talk to him. If you think he's worth it, worth more than your career then come out. You'll never know how people are going to react. You're a good player, Louis, and people love you. It can backfire, yes, but it doesn't have to. Maybe they'll accept you? Just go through this year and then make your choice, there's no rush." Leaning forward Mum presses a kiss to my cheek and hugs me tightly once more. "Do what your heart tells you." she concludes and smiles at me with such sincerity that I'm beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, a year won't even be that long.


	15. Chapter 15

"Lads? Can you wait a moment before running off to the showers?" I turn around to find Tom running towards all of us, a stack of papers in his hand.  
Glancing around at my mates confused faces I notice that nobody seems to have a clue what's going on either so we just wait for Tom to tell us what's going on instead of going straight to the changing rooms like we usually do after training.,  
"Okay, cheers lads, I'll make it quick," Tom assures us with an annoyed glance to the sky and the rain that's dripping down from it.  
"I got a call this morning, and it's official: we're invited to a friendly game on Saturday. We know it's a game-free day in the league but before you start moaning let me tell you where it is: we'll be leaving Thursday afternoon, and we're going to...South Africa!"   
Wait. What? South Africa? Holy fuck. Cheers erupt from our small groups, eyes widening and lips tugging upwards in excited smiles so it takes a while until Tom is able to continue his explanations.  
"Calm down lads, calm down. As you may or may not know, South Africa is almost in the same time zone as we are, just one hour ahead of us so there won't be any jet lag. But it's gonna be a long flight down and back so we're leaving Thursday night which gives you Friday to get accommodated, then the game will be on Saturday and we'll be leaving Sunday afternoon. All the information you need is on here," Tom explains, holding up the papers in his hand and starting to hand them out to the lads. "So just read through it and call me up if there's anything you don't understand, Any questions so far?" And before I know it my hand rises and, meeting Toms expectant gaze with nervous eyes, I find myself asking, "who's coming along? Just the team?"   
"The team, trainers, doctors," I nod along, having expected all of that, and begin to nervously nibble on my bottom lip while Tom proceeds to list all the people that are going to accompany us down to South Africa.  
"Bodyguards." Fuck. A gush of air that I didn't even realise I was holding leaves my mouth as my head starts getting fuzzy with the possibilities this holds. Flying to South Africa. With Harry. Holy fuck. I thank Tom, who looks at me rather bemused but I just shrug it off and head off to the changing rooms and change into my usual hoodie and sweatpants, and it isn't until I'm sitting in my car in front of the stadium that I allow myself to look at the sheets Tom gave us. I carefully dig them out of my bag, my fingers trembling with anticipation.   
It contains a lot of basic information, flight times and all that jazz, as well as info about the game on Saturday. Much to my delight I discover that we have Friday to ourselves, apart from an hour of training in the afternoon. Same goes for Sunday, it's completely ours until we have to head back to London. So two days in South Africa. With Harry. Hmm, this has potential, I think and smirk to myself when an idea comes to my mind. A lot of potential indeed...

As soon as I stumble through the doors to my house I drop my duffle bag to the ground and fish my phone out of my pocket to call Harry. I considered calling him from the car because I'm just so fucking excited that I can't wait to tell him but then I remembered his reaction to me talking to him on the phone while driving yesterday and I knew it wouldn't do us any good, so I impatiently waited until I got home.  
Now I can't quite keep the smile off my face as I wait for him to pick up, phone pressed closely to my ear while I wander to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.   
"Lou?"   
"Hello Curly," I chirp happily and can almost hear Harrys confusion in the momentary silence at the other end of the line.   
"Someone's in a good mood, hm?"   
"Sure am, training was good. And I'm gonna see Liam later, so why shouldn't I be in a good mood?" Liam and I are meeting at a pub later, it's his last day before returning to Paris so we decided to celebrate it with some pub food and a beer or three, just like in good old times.   
"Right, when are you meeting him? And where?" Harry asks, his voice slipping into its business tone that he always has when he's in bodyguard-mode and I can't help but laugh.  
"Careful, curly, your bodyguard/stalker-side is showing." I tease, chuckling when I hear his annoyed groan come through the line.   
"I am your bodyguard, Louis, so be a good boy and tell me." And I can picture the smirk on his face when my breath hitches at his words perfectly so I bite my tongue, silently scolding myself for being so damn responsive when it comes to this man. How is that even possible? I'm pathetic, really.  
"Meeting him at 7 at a pub downtown, called 'The King's Arms.'"   
"Alright, sounds good. Have a fun night then, Louis."   
"Oh I bet it will be fun. What are you going to do tonight?" I wonder, maybe he's going to drink some orange juice or try some new ridiculous dish that he's going to force me to eat soon.   
"I'll go down to the gym for a bit and then I need to call a friend from back home, Niall. Haven't spoken to him for far too long." Niall? A friend from back home? I know that Harry is from Holmes Chapel, a small town in Cheshire but he hardly ever speaks about his past, and he certainly never mentioned any friends. So where is this Niall coming from now? Of course, a part of me is incredibly relieved that he does have friends, because despite him being absolutely lovely I've never really seen him with anyone and I always thought he was lonely. But another part of me wants a full background check of this Niall guy right now, including his sexual orientation, thank you very much.  
"Niall, hm?" I grumble and Harry must've heard the displeased undertone in my voice because he starts laughing out loud, and despite my best attempts at staying grumpy I can't stop the small grin that starts to spread my lips because how could I with his laughter booming through the speaker?  
"Louis Tomlinson, are you jealous? Again?"  
"Well, you never said anything about a single person from back home and suddenly..." I start defending myself, pouting even though Harry can't see it, my voice turning into a whine until Harry interrupts me, his voice still dripping with amusement,  
"God, Lou, no. I've know Niall since we were both still wearing diapers, we never...Yuck, no. Besides, Niall is about as straight as you can be. He falls in love every two weeks, claims it's the love of his life and then he gets distracted by a sandwich. No, Lou, Niall is like a brother, not a lover. Don't worry." A brother, not a lover. And the amount of relief I feel at that should be ridiculous but really, what can I do?   
"Oh, okay. I'm sorry Harry, I shouldn't have..." I mumble, suddenly feeling silly. Instead of being happy that he isn't all alone like I thought here I am, making assumptions and jumping at conclusions. Silly, childish, typical me.   
"It's okay Louis, I like that you're jealous." Oh, okay? He likes that I'm jealous? Memories of the dinner on Friday come back to me, when I purposely teased him and tried to get him jealous because God dammit he's hot when he's jealous, when his eyes get all stormy and his voice turns into a growl. Maybe...does he feel the same about me? Does he like that I care as much as I love that he does?  
"Do you?"   
"I do." he mumbles quietly, maybe a bit too quietly, and for some unknown reason a blush starts to cover my cheeks, cheeks that are starting to hurt from his widely I'm grinning.   
"Good. You know, I really shouldn't have said anything. I'm happy that you do have friends. Oh my god, this sounds so stupid but..." I groan inwardly and slap my hand over my face, exasperated. Could I sound any more silly? "I've never seen you with anyone, friends or family and I always feared that you might be lonely..."   
"I'm not lonely, Lou, I just don't need a lot of people in my life. I'm happy with a few close friends."   
"Okay, good. I just don't want you to...you know, be unhappy." And fuck, this is hard. I've never cared that much about other people's feelings of this is kind of awkward, me trying to express that I'm worried about someone, about him.  
"I'm not Lou. I'm happier than I've been for a long time." Harry admits quietly and my heart starts to flutter in my chest. He's happy? Maybe, I dare to think, just maybe I have something to do with that. Maybe.   
"Good," I mumble in response, coughing to clear my suddenly tighter throat. "Oh, I almost forgot about this. I have something to tell you, it's a surprise."  
"A surprise?" Harry mumbles, his voice lighter now and I can tell that he's intrigued, that I have him hooked.   
"Yes, and I'm not going to tell you now because I still have some things to settle first." And because I don't want to tell you over the phone, I add in my thoughts, because I want to see your face when it happens, want to see your excitement mirror mine, want to kiss you and maybe fuck you. Yep, sounds like a plan to me.   
"Loooou..." Harry whines and even though I can't see him I know that he's pouting, his plump bottom lip sticking out, his eyes big and round and pleading and fuck.   
"Tonight, okay? I'll call you when I get back from Liam and then I'll tell you, I promise." Perfect plan, I'll call him, have him come over and then I'll tell him. And then the rest of my plan can go down. I smirk triumphantly,nodding to myself.  
"I doubt that you'll be able to tell me anything tonight." What? Frowning, I shake my head.  
"No, it'll just be a short one with Liam, we're just gonna have a quick beer in the pub, I should be back by ten."  
"You sure Lou?"   
"Yeah, I'm sure, you have fun calling Niall and I'll have fun with Liam and then I'll call you tonight when I'm back, okay?"  
"Yeah, okay. Talk to you then. And Lou? Please be careful."   
I reply with a swift "Always am," and hang up with a broad grin on my face. Then I quickly search through my phone and call a different number, different but familiar.  
"Louis? What can I do for you?"   
"Hi Tom. I just have a couple of questions about the South Africa trip, do you have a moment?" I hear him shuffling around at the other end of the line and cast a quick glance at the clock, it's almost 6pm so I suppose he's just finishing up in his office.  
"Yeah, sure Louis, fire away."   
"Okay..." I nibble on my bottom lip for a moment, unsure of how to approach this topic without Tom thinking the wrong thing - well technically the right thing but he can't know that - before I decide to just go for it. "It's not really about the trip itself, I was just wondering if I could miss out on training on Monday any maybe stay a bit longer?" There's a moment of bemused silence before Toms surprised voice comes through the speaker again.   
"You want to stay longer? Why?" Because I want to spend time with Harry far away from this fucking place and its judgemental people. Possibly at some private beach. Hmm, a private beach sounds good. We could do everything we want to. Possibly naked. Yep, just the thought of being able to look at Harrys naked body all day gets me pretty damn excited for this entire thing, so I quickly focus on convincing Tom before I let my mind run away with me.

So ten minutes and a few calls to the airline and the hotel later, it's all booked and I stare at the screen of my laptop, pressing 'print' with a satisfied smile on my face. It's all booked and planned, we're going to fly down to Johannesburg with the mates on Thursday but unlike them we won't be returning Sunday but Tuesday, which gives us two more full days together. And I can't fucking wait. We're going to spend almost 5 days together, in South Africa for fucks sake!   
And being the little tease that I am I can't help but send Harry a text message.

To: Mr. Cute and Deadly, 5:47pm  
Surprise is all planned, can't wait to tell you x 

And then I take a quick shower and get dressed in my usual skinny jeans and shirt, and when I pick my phone up again to see Harrys reply I laugh out loud because I can just picture his grumpy face perfectly.

From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 5:54 pm  
Don't you have somewhere to be? Stop teasing me and go have some fun. 

To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 6:02 pm  
Stop being so grumpy Curly. I think you'll love it. 

This time I don't wait for his reply, though, because I'm already running late, so I just stuff my phone and wallet into my pocket and head outside.  
The pub is downtown in the West End, a place where I often go with my mates. It's cozy and not too expensive for downtown London. Besides, I slept with one of the waitresses once and now she always gives me free chips. I always felt proud of it, of getting free chips because I fucked the staff, now makes me cringe. Funny how people change. Funny how people change people, I think and Harry's smile comes to my mind. Yes, he's definitely changing me. Turning me into a good boy. Somehow, despite what I always thought, despite always liking the role of the untamed bad boy, I find that I don't mind one bit.  
I don't have to wait long for Liam and soon we're chatting about old times while sipping our beers and eating some chips - that I paid for. It's fun, being with him again after so long. He tells me about Paris, about his trainer who can't speak English properly because he can't pronounce the 'H', and Liam's impression of him nearly sends me to the floor with laughter. And then I realise that Harry has an H in his name, and the image of a little boy with dimples and bouncy curls comes to my mind, a little cherub who is utterly confused because people keep calling him 'Arry' and the image nearly sends me to the floor again, much to Liam's amusement.  
"Hey Tommo, remember when we locked Mrs Nicholson up in the gym after she made us practice that stupid dance routine in year 8?"   
"Or when we put chalk in Mr. Richards' coffee and he didn't even notice?" Laughing, we both grip onto the table to stop us from falling off our chairs, the pints we've had slowly beginning to cloud our minds.   
"He even commented on how good the coffee tasted, I still can't believe it!" Liam chokes, tears running down his face from laughing so much and I can't help but grin widely myself. This is so nice, just catching up with an old friend over a pint or five.   
"We were proper rowdies back then weren't we," I smile fondly at the memories. Those were the days.   
"We were the worst. And remember when we discovered alcohol and clubs and went out clubbing every weekend? God, everyone was so annoyed by us but we were just having fun."   
"Yeah, the coaches nearly killed us every time we arrived to a game with a hangover. It's a miracle that we actually made it into proper football clubs with our reputation."   
"You know what's? Talking about clubs, how about we re-live those days?" Re-live them? Liam wants to go clubbing. Uhm. Oh no.  
"Sorry, Liam, I can't...I've got stuff to do." Like calling Harry. And I promised him I wouldn't be late. And I haven't been clubbing ever since that night when he picked me up and I nearly got robbed.   
"C'mon Louu, you've gotten all boring. I haven't seen you for years and God knows when I'll see you again so please? Come to a club with me, just like the good old days." And fuck, Liam's looking down at me with those puppy eyes that he has and how on earth am I supposed to say no? Besides, I've missed him too and I haven't been to a club for far too long so why the hell not? It'll just be quick anyway. I'll just have to make sure that I get home in time to call Harry, but it's still early and the night is still young, so I reluctantly agree.

It's a club I've been to before, but it's nothing remarkable. Looks like every other club, crowded and flashing lights and loud music that makes my head spin so I hold onto the barstool next to me for support. Liam, who is standing next to me, swaying a bit, is currently chatting up some ladies while I just stand here and sip my drink, watching some absolutely smashed guy trying to do pole dancing. It's hilarious, at least my drunken mind thinks it is. My shirt is sticking to my back, all sweaty from dancing and shouting and having fun, and my fringe keeps falling into my eyes but I don't care, the buzz of the alcohol in my veins keeps me happy.   
"Louis? Hey, man, this is Katie." Liam slurs, slamming his hand on my back and I nearly drop my drink.  
"Katie is a bit lonely tonight, think you'd want to keep her company?" he suggests, and oh no. Looking up I come face to face with a busty brunette in impossibly tight black leggings and killer heels. Honestly, I bet she's not even wearing pants, bet she just dipped her legs in black paint. She smiles suggestively, and yes, she's very pretty, I have to give her that. But fuck, no. How dare Liam? No. I mean, first of all - Harry. Only him. Second of all - boobs. Nope. Third of all -   
"What the hell Liam? 'M not here to get laid. Just wanted to have some fun with a bro, yea, no offence Katie but I think you should leave." I growl, throwing a disgusted smile at Katie and a scowl at Liam. What the hell is he playing at? With a huff, Katie throws her long brown hair - probably extensions, nothing about these club girls is ever real - over her shoulder in a proper Beyoncé move, and staggers away, almost making me laugh. But then Liam speaks up, looking proper annoyed.   
"Louis, what's wrong with you man? She was fit! You've become all boring and responsible, what the hell happened to you Tommo?" Liam yells, watching the girl leave, and something inside of me snaps. Liam's still the same dude he's always been, still likes to party and to fuck and to be loud and rude, just like me before I met Harry. But Harry...he changed me, he really did, even in the fairly short amount of time I've known him. He showed me that there's more to life than partying and sleeping around. Liam doesn't know what it feels like to wake up with curls all over his face and a warm body pressed to his side, he doesn't know how much fun it is to watch the awe on someone else's face when they ramble about poetry and art, he doesn't know how it feels to stand in the kitchen and cook with someone, humming old 80s tunes and carefully trying not to burn the food. No, Liam clearly hasn't found his Harry yet so I try not to be too annoyed with him for being so blind because I was the same up until a few months ago. Still I can't help the frustration and anger that runs through me, but instead of snapping at Liam and ruining the night further I decide to head to the bathroom to clear my head.  
And fuck, it's already past 11. Somewhere in the back of my befuddled mind there is something bugging me, something I needed to do but I don't know what it was, can't grasp it...Harry! Fuck, I wanted to call Harry. I take out my phone with clumsy fingers but I don't call him, I know that I couldn't bear to hear the silent disappointment in his voice so I decide to text him instead, just to let him know that I'm okay. After a lot of struggling and nearly dropping my phone I finally manage a "I'm okay, please dont worry bout me call u tomorow" and I send it, proud of myself. A few seconds later my phone rings, though, and when I see Harrys name flash across the screen I know that he's probably not that proud of me. Dammit.  
"Harry?"   
"Louis, where are you?" And somehow my fuzzy brain registers the tone in his voice as 'worried', not angry and it makes me grin like the drunk idiot that I am. But then I remember the girl and Liam and the grin fades quickly.   
" 'M annoyed, Harry." I whine into the speaker and lean against the wall for support because the room starts spinning.   
"Lou, listen to me. Where are you? Are you still at the pub you went to?" Confused, I furrow my brows and try to make sense of what he's saying. Pub? Why does he always ask so many questions?   
"You don't make sense, Harreh," I declare and can't help but giggle into the receiver, picturing his sour face.   
"Louis, where. are. you." And somehow I can tell that he's getting frustrated with me but I'm frustrated too, frustrated because he's never here when I want him, because I always have to party alone.   
"Why are you not here? I want you here. But you're not here, you're at home. Drinking orange juice."  
"If you tell me where you are, I'll come to you. I'll join you at the club, okay Lou? Just tell me the name of it."   
"You'll come?" I yell excitedly, clapping my hands like an excited seal and of course dropping my phone in the process and shit, this phone definitely loves me because it again doesn't break.   
"Oh shit." I mumble and scramble to press it back to my ear.  
"What happened? Are you okay?"   
"Yes Mum, 'm okay. Dropped me phone. You'll really come?" I mumble, still grinning happily, my drunken mind overly excited at the thought of Harry joining me here. Maybe then those girls will stop bothering me.   
"I will." Harry replies calmly. "I just need to know what club you're at." 

"What are you doin out 'ere Lou?" Liam slurs, coming up behind me and leaning against the wall of the club for support, just like me.  
" 'm waiting for Harreh. He'll come 'ere soon."   
"Harry? Who's that?" Turning towards Liam I frown, bemused. How can he not know who Harry is? Harry is everything, my drunken mind decides.  
"Harry is my bodyguard, he makes sure that I'm okay. Oh, and he has curls and dimples and green eyes and really big hands and he...Harry!" I yell, jumping up from my spot against the wall and nearly stumbling over my own feet when I see him hopping out of his car across the street. Without a second thought I begin to stumble towards him, wobbling a little but too excited that he's here, he's here he's here he's here, to actually care that I'm making the ultimate fool of myself because walking actually isn't an option right now. Harry seems to notice that, too, and I watch his face twist with worry as he quickens his pace and strides towards me.   
"Haaaaaarry!" I yell again, and once he's close enough I leap of the ground and jump into his arms, crashing right into him with all my weight. Luckily Harry is strong enough to catch me, and if I weren't so absolutely drunk I'd probably appreciate the way his biceps bulge when he wraps his arms around me to hold me a bit more.   
"Christ, you're fucked Lou. Let's get you home, alright?" And somewhere deep in my brain a part of me doesn't want to go home yet, wants to stay here and dance with him but the much larger part of me doesn't really care what we do as long as I'm with him, so I just grin up at him and nod happily.   
"Good." He grins down at me and his eyes crinkle in that way that I love and I just can't help but lean up and press a smooching wet kiss to his cheek. Harry seems alarmed, immediately checking our surroundings only to discover that the few people who are still around us are all too drunk to care.   
"You're a menace when you're drunk, Tomlinson." But I can see the amusement in his eyes and so I smile widely, drunkenly, and whisper "your menace," into his ear, making him cough. It's cute.  
With me still in his arms he turns around to face Liam, and from where I'm gazing up at him I can see his eyes growing hard.  
"Will you be alright, Mr. Payne?" Harry mumbles, and there's something in his voice that makes me shiver. Harry, i realise with a start, doesn't like Liam. Probably because he blames him for getting me drunk. Which is, kind of, the truth. But I could've said no, so it's technically my fault too. And once Liam assures him that he'll have his own people pick him up soon Harry nods his goodbye and tightens his arms around me, hoisting me up a bit until I'm properly sitting on his hip like a small child. And christ, it's unsettling really, the way he carries me so effortlessly, the way my body is so small compared to his. But in all honesty, with my brain all fuzzy and my mind cloudy all I can feel is an overwhelming safety, being in his arms like this, so I lean my head against his shoulder and sigh contently. But there's one thing I still have to say, so I speak up while Harry carries me over to his Range Rover.  
" 's not Leeyums fault," I mumble against the fabric of his shirt and I feel Harrys curls tickle my face when he looks down at me, bemused.  
"What?"   
" 's my fault too. That I'm drunk." I declare, hoping that he can actually make sense of my mumbled words. He can, apparently, because his confusion turns into realisation.  
"It's alright Louis. I'm just glad that I'm here to make sure that you're okay." With that he opens the car door and pushes me into the seat, ignoring my weak attempts to hold onto him and prying my hands off his shirt.  
"So you're not mad at me then?" I whisper hopefully and look up at him with large eyes, and his face softens immediately.  
"No, Lou. How could I be mad at you when you're being so cute?" And normally I'd protest and claim that I'm not cute but indeed very manly, but how could I when Harry leans down to press a kiss on the top of my head? So instead of protesting I just watch him while he jogs around the car, my hazy eyes running over his body, and somewhere deep inside my head I notice that he looks good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Really good.

 

"C'mon Louis, get out of the car." Harry demands again, his voice ever so patient as he stares down at me.   
"But I don't want to. 'M comfy." I whine and sink further into the leather seats, burying my face into the fabric, blocking out Harry's exasperated sigh.  
"Your bed is more comfy." he tries to argue, and I can't deny that but...  
"But walking." I spit it out like its the most disgusting thing, and the way my legs feel all wobbly and the world starts to spin a little, it really is.   
"I'll carry you." Harry offers, and now we're talking. Opening one eye I peek up at him, absolutely ready to negotiate this important deal of how I want to be transported to bed.  
"Piggyback ride?" I demand testily, and Harry laughs out loud.  
"You're such a child when you're drunk, Louis. But okay, piggyback ride."   
And before I know it he's crouching down in front of me and I clumsily wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his hair and clinging to him when he stands up.  
"On we go!" I yell, excitedly punching my fist into the air and revealing in the way Harry's laugh rumbles through his chest.   
He carries me all the way up to my bedroom and then let's me down gently, keeping his hands on my hips to steady me and I immediately lean into him again, my arms around his neck. Confused, I let my glance wander around the room. There was something... I'm sure there was something important, something I had to tell him. And it isn't until my eyes fall on the stack of paper next to the printer that I remember what it was.  
"South Africa!" I shout triumphantly and gaze up at Harry, waiting for him to join my excitement but he just looks confused, making me frown.  
"South Africa?" he mumbles, brows furrowed in confusion and my befuddled brain registers that he has no clue what I'm talking about. Somehow the thought makes me giggle, Harry usually knows everything.  
"What?" he wonders, still frowning and I lift my hand to push a curl away from his face.  
"You're cute when you're confused."   
"And you're way too drunk, Lou. Let's get you to bed." But the confusion on his face has given way to something warmer, something that makes him glow from within as he watches me with soft eyes, like molten emerald.   
I don't protest when he pushes me down onto the mattress and pulls my shoes and pants off, then my shirt.  
"We're going to South Africa. For footie. 'S on the desk, by the printer." I whine in protest at the loss of Harry's warmth when he gets up from the bed to have a look at the paper, but he immediately wraps the blanket around me, tucking me in, so I don't protest too much. I can hear Harry shuffling around, picking up the sheets and reading through them and I try, really try to keep my eyes open to watch him but I can't, not when the bed is far too comfortable and I'm far too drunk. A moment later, the sound of clothes hitting the ground startles me, and then the bed dips when Harry slides in next to me and pulls me against his chest.  
"South Africa, hm?" he mumbles into my ear, kissing my hair, and I nod happily, gathering my remaining strength to explain it to him.   
"The others are staying until Sunday. But we're not, staying longer. Wanted to stay longer with you. Talked to Tom, 's alright he said. Just have to be back for training on Wednesday. Staying until Tuesday, me and you. Just me and you." I feel myself drifting, feel my eyes falling shut and just before I'm completely out I feel Harry's lips on my forehead, pressing a feather light kiss to my skin, and so I fall asleep in his arms and with a giant smile on my face and excitement bubbling in my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of random and pointless and I suck, but things should get more fun in SA. Who's excited? Cause I am.
> 
> I got so many lovely messages after my last update, thank you all so much, you guys are why I love writing.   
> Love you lots like jelly tots. x


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for over 4.8k hits, you're all so damn beautiful and I love you. To say it with Harry's wise words: I want to kiss every single one of you!  
> Also, My apologies for not updating for waaay too long, I'm so sorry. I've just been reading a lot and other people are so good at writing and I feel like I'm not, so I kind of lost my confidence for a while. I'm back now though, so I hope this won't happen again.  
> Let me make it up to you with a loooong chapter. Forgive me? x  
> Happy reading everyone.

This bed is too cold. Too big and too empty and too cold. And even though I'm beyond tired I can't seem to drift off, can't seem to fall asleep. The long flight has exhausted me and it's two in the morning so I sound technically fall asleep right away, but somehow I stay wide awake as I watch the small red light of the air conditioner blink on and off somewhere to my right.  
The flight has been horrible. In fact, it's all been perfectly alright, the plane was on time and the food was good, we didn't have any problems with our luggage or anything, it's just... I sat at the very back of our clubs little private jet, next to my mates. And Harry...well, he was forced to sit at the front, along with all the other bodyguards and managers. It's been torture, because all I could see for 8 long hours was the back of his head. It's a very pretty head, all curly and stuff, but still. It was so tempting to just walk up to him and kiss him, to hold his hand and curl up against him to nap, he was so close yet so impossibly far away. We didn't get the chance to have any contact at all, not with everyone else around, but of course I kept watching him like a hawk all the time, I just couldn't help it. He's too fascinating, the way his long fingers deftly unwrapped his food or the way he crossed his impossibly long legs to be more comfortable. Of course he chose to wear his usual black skinny jeans, and when I teased him about it earlier before we took off he explained that he had to leave a good impression on all the important people around. A bodyguard in sweatpants? Seems to be an affront. Though it's a shame, really, I think, recalling how good he looked in his baggy sweatpants when he picked me up from that club on Monday night. I think I'll have to make him wear sweatpants more often. I hope he brought some...  
And ah, Monday. The night of all nights. I smile to myself, thinking back to how Liam called me Tuesday afternoon, voice wrecked and absolutely hungover, and luckily completely oblivious. He even asked me how I got home the night before and I sent a thankful prayer to the heavens that he doesn't remember Harry. I don't remember too much myself, if I'm honest, but I definitely remember jumping Harry and clinging to him like a Koala. And how could I forget with the way he's been teasing me about it all week, that curly bastard.  
Harry. I wish I could be with him right now, so I could listen to his deep, slow voice until I fall asleep in his arms. But he's far away, at the other end of the long corridor, in his own room. And it sucks, it sucks so much because I want to spend time with him, South Africa is supposed to be our getaway, our chance to spend time together without having to hide. I sigh, beyond frustrated, my lack of sleep making me even more grumpy and oh, fuck it. This is supposed to be our holiday and I want to spend time with him, not be so far apart. So I get out of bed, throw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie and grab my key before slipping out into the dark corridor and gently closing the door behind me, trying not to wake anyone up. I might have eavesdropped a bit when Harry checked in earlier, so it doesn't take too long until I'm standing in front of room 1376, the room he's in. I contemplate knocking, but then I realise that that would probably wake people up more then anything else so instead I pull my phone out and send him a text.

To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 01:52 am  
Open your door, there's a surprise waiting for you. x 

Seconds later, I see the light turn on inside Harry's room and I can't help but grin widely, already picturing the surprise on his face when he opens the door to find me standing here. Maybe I should've wrapped myself up in wrapping paper. With a little bow in my hair maybe? It's too late for that now, of course, but the look on Harry's face is absolutely priceless even without wrapping paper.  
"Lou?" he gasps, rubbing his tired eyes like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. And my god, he looks adorable with his messy curls and confused sleepy eyes and his naked chest looks so warm, so inviting that I involuntarily step closer to him and rest my palm against it, feeling the strong beat of his heart.  
"Hi." I smile up at him and resist pinching his cheeks because he's so so cute, completely disorientated like a small kitten, so unlike his usual calm, collected and in-control behaviour.  
"What are you doing here? What time is it?" he mumbles, his voice syrupy slow in his sleepy state and my heart stutters painfully.  
"Relax, Curly. It's 2 in the morning and I just wanted to be closer to you, I can't sleep." I explain and watch as the confusion on his face fades slowly and realisation settles in.  
"Oh, you. Oh." Stepping aside to let me in he scans the empty corridor for a moment before closing the door behind us and following me into his room, dragging his feet across the wooden floor and immediately falling back into bed.  
"I thought it was morning already, I thought I'd overslept..." he mumbles tiredly and looks at his phone, probably to check the time, just for good measure.  
"You're a bit confused aren't you?" I tease and plop down on the bed next to him, this time I don't resist the urge and actually reach out to pinch his cheek. He squeals in surprise and weakly slaps my hand away, again looking like an uncoordinated Bambi rather than his usual elegant, confident self, and I decide then that sleepy Harry is probably my favourite thing in the entire world.  
" 'M tired Lou, didn't sleep on the plane like you did." he whines and pouts, his plump bottom lip sticking out adorably and I can't help myself, I have to lean down and capture it with my own lips. I've wanted to kiss him all day and now, in the quiet darkness of his room, I finally can. He hums into the kiss, contently melting against me and it would be easy, so easy to turn this kiss into something more, to slip my tongue into his mouth and snog him until there's no return. But I don't, because he's tired and it's late and I crave nothing more than to curl up next to him and finally fall asleep. So I peck his lips one last time and the pull away to kiss his cheek, making his dimpled smile pop.  
"Sleep, you poor, tired boy." I whisper teasingly and laugh out loud when he huffs and turns away from me.  
"You're mean." And it sounds so whiney, so adorable when his voice breaks at the end and he erupts into a giant yawn that all I can do is laugh and shuffle up behind him so his back is to my chest, and even though he's much bigger than me he feels so soft in my arms, so warm that I fall asleep with my nose buried in his hair and my breath matching his.  
__________

The next day starts just like the last one ended. I kiss a still half-asleep Harry goodbye and sneak out of the room at 6:30 when the lights in all the other rooms are still off. Wandering through the empty hallways I feel like a proper badass Ninja, that is until -  
"Louis?" And fuck. So much for my impressive ninja skills.  
"Hi Tom." Spinning around I spot him leaning in the doorway of his room, eyeing me suspiciously.  
"What a delight to see you, of all people, up so early. Are you ill?" And it's just down to the lump in my throat and the fear of being discovered that I don't come up with some snappy remark. If this wasn't me sneaking back from Harry's room after having spent the night there, Tom would be dead right now.  
"Uhm, no. I just woke up really early and couldn't go back to sleep...." wrecking my brain for a good excuse I jump at the first thing that comes to my mind. "I slept so much on the plane yesterday that I'm not tired anymore."  
"And so instead of staying in your room and lazing around like I know you normally would you go outside? What did you do?" Tom wonders, crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching me with doubt clear in his eyes. Shit, looks like I'll have to be more convincing or this will end in a disaster.  
"I, uh, wanted to watch the sunrise." I blurt out and mentally slap myself the second the words leave my mouth. The sunrise, really Tommo? Seems like Harry kissed away all my wits this morning. It's embarrassing, really.  
"The sunrise? You?" Tom laughs incredulously, shaking his head at me and I can't blame him for not believing me. Everyone who knows me can immediately tell that I'd never get up early to watch the sun rise, I'm not that kind of person. Harry probably is, I realise, and the thought brings a soppy smile to my face that I immediately try to hide.  
"Yeah. Is that so wrong, Tom?" I wonder, feeling like I have to defend sunrise watchers because it kind of means defending Harry.  
"You're getting soft, Tommo. Are you in love or something?" And shit, I blush. I really fucking blush a deep shade of red and Toms widening eyes tell me that he noticed. Fuck. What now? Something my Mum used to tell me when I was younger comes to my mind, she always said 'the most believable lie is the one closest to the truth.' So fuck it, I just hope that my Mum is right.  
"Not in love, but... I like someone, yeah." I admit and blush even more - how is that even possible? - my eyes glued to the floor because I can't seem to look Tom in the eyes. I don't want to see the look that says 'finally Louis Fucking Tomlinson takes something in his love life seriously', I just really don't.  
"Louis... That's great! Who is she?" Snapping my head up I'm met with Toms broad, almost ecstatic smile and someone inside of me just snaps, again. She. Fuck this. Fuck this entire thing. She. Who is she. There is no fucking she! And suddenly I get the overwhelming need to just run to the roof of this hotel and scream, scream at the top of my lungs that I'm gay and fucking my bodyguard, scream it so loud that everyone back in England can hear it. But I don't. Instead, I just grit my teeth, spit a "Nobody" in Toms direction and rush past him, slamming the door to my room a bit too loudly for the early morning hour but I don't care, I've never cared less. I'm seething with rage, with disappointment and something else that I can't quite place, something heavy that settles in my stomach. It feels a lot like a decision's been made inside of me, but I don't know yet what the decisions been about. 

Breakfast is awkward. Tom keeps sending me confused glances from across the table, and all of my teammates keep eyeing me suspiciously, probably wondering why I'm in such a foul mood, not saying a word and rolling my eyes in annoyance at their jokes. And fuck it, after a while I just can't take it anymore, so I just jump out of my seat so quickly that my chair screeches across the floor, slamming my bowl of oatmeal - oatmeal, with dried fruits, seriously? When did I start eating oatmeal when there's pancakes? Damn Harry Styles and his obsession with healthy food - down on the counter and rushing out of the room. I just want to be alone, want to be by myself, want to be away from them looking at me like I'm a volcano, ready to erupt every second. But no, hang on. Not alone. I just want to be with Harry. Yeah, Harry. Without even really realizing it I suddenly find myself in front of his room, knocking harshly with anger still burning within me. There's no response. I knock again, and again, but he's not there. Frustrated beyond belief I scuffle back to my room, text Harry a moody "where the hell are you?!" and then shut off my phone, needing some peace, some time away from all this. So I hop into the shower and turn on the water, letting it's warmth flood around me as I close my eyes and try to relax, taking deep breaths and focusing on nothing but the feeling of a thousand tiny, soft drops on my skin, slowly washing away my anger, until I feel completely drained but finally more or less calm. 

As soon as I hop out of the shower I wrap myself up in one of the fluffy robes the hotel provides and sit down on the bed I abandoned tonight. My phone rests heavily in my hand, and after a while I sigh deeply and turn it back on. There's still no response from Harry. Worry shoots through me, filling my veins until my chest tightens painfully. Where is he? Did something happen? Or did someone...what if someone saw me leaving his room this morning? Did they send him home? No, they wouldn't, would they? I'm sure they'd tell me before.... Feeling restless again, the calming effect of my shower long forgotten, I quickly jump into a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt and make my way over to his room, my feet moving too quick to be subtle but luckily the hallways are empty, the others are probably still having breakfast. I knock on his door, once, twice, three times - no response. Fuck. Swallowing tightly I turn around and move towards the main hall, thinking that he might be in one of the hotels lounges. He's not. I check the library, too, maybe he tucked himself away in there? But he's not there either. I can't help but imagine all sorts of scenarios, Harry already on a plane back to England, and my anxiety is about to make my chest explode when I catch sight of a sign that gives me some last hope. Taking two steps at a time I sprint down the stairs of the main hall until I reach the lower floor, and, pushing the door open with both hands, I sprint into the room, and my heart stops beating for a moment only to restart with doubled speed.  
Oh, thank god. I should've known it. A breathless laugh escapes my lips as I stand in the doorway of the gym, my arms resting on my thighs as I struggle to catch my breath. I suddenly feel beyond silly for being so scared, so nervous. What is this man doing to me that I can't even live without knowing where he is for two hours? It's pathetic, really. Still I can't stop the relief from filling my veins, replacing the fear that raced through them before as I watch Harry in the corner of the empty gym, lifting weights. He didn't notice me yet, so I take a moment to admire the man in front of me, and fuck. He's shirtless, just dressed in a pair of tiny black gym shorts that rest impossibly low on his hips, revealing his V lines, and my mouth waters at the sight of his muscles moving beneath the thin layer of sweat that makes his skin glisten. His hair is tied up in a bun, and honestly, it shouldn't look as good on a man as it does on him. He could wear a potato sack and he'd still look beyond beautiful. My breath hitches as I watch the way his muscles pop every time he lifts the weights, long fingers curling tightly around the iron while his abs clench in protest. And shit, he looks so concentrated, his brows pulled together and his lower lip tugged into his mouth, looks so impossibly good like this that I just can't take it anymore. Is this what he feels when he watches me during training? This longing, this undeniable need to touch me? Desire explodes inside me, hot and heavy as the earlier anger I still have in me mixes up with lust, and before I know it my feet carry me over to him, my socks moving quietly across the floor so he doesn't notice me until I'm almost right in front of him. Glancing up from where he focused on the floor he sees me standing there, eyes probably blazing with lust and desire, and a surprised sound leaves his throat as his eyes widen. He barely has enough time to sit the weights down on the floor before I throw myself at him with a force that knocks us both against the wall behind him.  
The air is knocked out of his lungs as he exhales in surprise and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue into his mouth, taking no prisoners. My hands automatically find their way into his hair, pulling the hair tie out of it so his curls fall loosely over his shoulders where my fingers grip into them to pull him even closer to me.  
"Whoa, Louis, what...." he gasps, pulling away for air but I don't let him and stop him with a sharp shake of my head.  
"Shut up, Harry. Shut up and kiss me." I don't want to talk right now, I just want him, here and now, I need him desperately. All the frustration I felt earlier, all the anger and confusion melts away at the feeling of his heated skin against mine and I know that he is what I need right now, so instead of giving him a chance to answer I dive back in and press my body flush against his while I let my lips work on his throat, kissing and sucking until I can feel him harden beneath me.  
"Fuck, Lou..." he moans and slumps back against the wall, giving up his resistance and I smile triumphantly against his neck.  
I feel his fingers press against the small of my back, holding me tight against his body, and with a smirk I begin to grind against him until he starts squirming underneath me, little noises falling from his mouth.  
"Bathroom?" I manage to gasp and remove my lips from his neck just long enough to spot the bathroom to our right. With my hands on his hips I start pushing him backwards into the room, my lips never leaving his neck as I revel in the amount of control I have. Honestly, I'm surprised that he lets me take things in my own hand rather than domineering me like he usually does, but I don't question it. Instead I push him up against the wall as soon as it closes behind us, and without the danger of anyone walking in on us I really let myself go.  
Gripping the hem of my shirt I hastily pull it over my head, longing to feel the warm skin of his chest against my own, and kiss him feverishly, our lips slotting together perfectly. Almost without my control my hips roll against his again, both of us already so hard, and I hiss when the seam of his shorts rubs against my dick just the right way.  
I feel one of his large hands move down my now naked side, his fingers playing with my sweatpants before final,y slipping beneath the fabric.  
"Shit, Lou..." he moans when his fingers meet my flesh without the barrier of underwear, and it's as if the discovery snaps him back to life because in a split second, he's grabbed my hips and pins me against the wall, his lips moving over my neck now as he turns the cards around and takes control of the situation. I don't protest, though, the feeling of his lips on my skin is too exquisite, and I can't deny the fact that I secretly love Harry controlling me. It's odd, really, because usually I hate being controlled, but with him? Fuck, it's hot. Gripping my hips tightly he yanks me flush against his body and a weird mixture of a yelp and a moan escapes my lips as he manhandles me like that.  
"Clothes," I breathe, tugging at his shorts. "You're wearing way too many clothes."  
"Hmm..." Harry hums against my skin and then pulls pack a bit to give me enough space to pull both his shorts and boxers down in one swift motion that makes his lips quirk up in a smirk.  
"Eager, hm?" Instead of an answer, I capture his lips between my own because fuck, they're so swollen and sinfully pink that I just can't resist him. Groaning, he melts into the kiss and slips his hands into my sweats again, pumping me for a few moments before pulling my pants down my legs so that we're both finally naked, our clothes laying in a pile on the bathroom floor.  
There's something feverish to my touch, something desperate thanks to the anger still burning within me, and I can tell that Harry is surprised by it but he doesn't comment, just takes everything I have to give as he falls to his knees in front of me and pins my hips again the wall with his large hands.  
"I'd much rather fuck you..." he whispers, his lips dragging lightly over my tip and I flinch, biting my lip to stop myself from bursting into moans. "but we don't have lube and our rooms are too far away...." Shit, lube! I hadn't even thought of that. My disappointment is cut short by the feeling of his warm mouth engulfing me, and soon everything is forgotten but the way he moves his lips around me.  
He keeps teasing me for a while, circling his tongue around my tip until he suddenly stands up, towering over me with shining eyes and messy hair. Releasing my hip he wraps one of his giant hands around both of our erections and starts tugging, starts moving his hand up and down our shafts and it's too much, the feeling of his hand in me and his dick against me and oh...  
"Harry..." I whimper, his name falling from my lips like a prayer, getting louder the more he increases the speed of his hand on us. I barely have time to hold onto his waist for support when my orgasm rips through me so intensely that I see stars, and Harry follows seconds later with a moaned, "Oh, baby, yeah."  
Blinking lazily, I gaze up at the ceiling, momentarily disorientated in my sated state. Turning my head I nuzzle Harrys chest, and he tightens his arms around my waist. I'm sitting between his legs on the floor, leaning against him contently while we're both trying to catch our breath.  
"To what do I owe this attack?" Harry finally asks, amusement clear in his voice but it can't quite mask the confusion.  
"Well, you look hot when working out." I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. I'm not quite sure yet if I'm ready to spill the beans about my confusion and anger. Harrys chest vibrates against my ear as he chuckles, and I can't quite help but tuck a smile into his chest in response.  
"Am I now?" he mumbles wryly, his voice muffled by my hair as he presses a kiss to my head.  
"Hmm, especially half naked. And with a bun." Lifting my head I raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to tell me what on earth possessed him to pull his hair into a bun.  
"My hair is getting a bit long. I should cut it, but..."  
"No, don't!" I protest immediately and lift my hand to run it through his smooth and slightly damp curls. "Don't cut it."  
"Then you'll have to live with the buns, Louis." He smirks down at me, and I shoot him a fake grimace, secretly proud that I distracted him from his original question.  
"I love your buns." Harrys warm laughter cuts through the silence and I smile contently, leaning my head back against his chest.  
"Seriously, Lou, what's wrong though?" Fuck. So much for my distraction skills.  
Peering up at him through my lashes I see the concern in his eyes, see it in the twist to his mouth and the way his shoulders tense, and I don't know if it's the nickname or the way he seems to worry about me so much, but something about it makes me spill.  
"I'm just so confused, Harry." I admit and hide my face in his chest again, not wanting him to see the emotions on my face. He says nothing, just holds me tighter and waits for me to continue.  
"I was very upset this morning, because Tom... he saw me when I came back from your room earlier..." feeling Harry tense beneath me I quickly reassure him that he has no idea where I came from though, "and he asked me if I liked someone at the moment and when I said yes he immediately assumed it was a girl, and it just made me so mad. Liam did the same when we went to the club, he tried to set me up with a girl! And it makes me so, so mad that they don't even consider that I, you know..." I stop, unable to continue. That I'm gay. It's just too much, and I'm still not 100% convinced that it's true. It can't be true. Can it?  
"Can you blame them? They've only ever seen you with girls, Louis, and they know nothing about me." Harrys voice is soft and so warm, wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. I shake my head against his chest, biting my lip to control my emotions.  
"No. But...I'm in such a confusing state right now. I'm attracted to you....obviously" I add, waving between our naked bodies, causing Harry to chuckle lightly, "but I've only been with girls before and I don't find other men attractive. I don't find girls attractive, either, not anymore, and I have no idea where I stand right now."  
We're quiet for a long time until Harry finally speaks up, his voice hesitant, laced with guilt.  
"I'm sorry, Louis. I shouldn't have put you in this situation. You were content with your life the way it was and I...I shouldn't have done that." What? No. Turning around in his grasp I clasp his face between my hands, and when I look into his eyes I want nothing more than to erase the guilt and sadness in there.  
"No, Harry, that's not what I meant. I'm glad that I found you, this...,whatever it is that we have going on, I like it so much." - I can't quite bring myself to say that I love it, because no. That's just...no. Especially when I don't even know where we stand, what he feels. "Don't blame yourself, please. I guess I'll just need some time to figure myself out, but I don't ever want to stop what we have, okay? So stop with this nonsense." Countless emotions flicker across his face, from guilt to surprise to fondness, until he finally decides on wry amusement.  
"Nonsense, hm?"  
"Yes, nonsense." I emphasise again and then lean down to press a chaste kiss to his lips before settling back against his chest. We sit ins silence for a few heartbeats until I finally pluck up the courage to ask him what I've always wanted to know.  
"Harry?"  
"Hmm?"  
"When you...you know, realised that you're gay, how was it for you?"  
"I was 17. There was a guy in my biology class, I found him so hot. Was practically drooling over him every lesson." Harry chuckles lightly, and I try to shut down the jealousy inside me as I picture a curly haired young lad in a lab coat watching his lab partner with heart eyes. "We eventually kissed at a party, that's how I figured out I was gay. It wasn't easy...just like you I was confused, all of my friends liked girls so surely there must've been something wrong with me. No one else liked guys, so why me? But my sister...she was so supportive. She taught me to ignore everyone else and just do my thing. My sister and my mum both helped me through it, I don't think I would once made it without them." Holy fuck! His sister? Peeking up at him, the sadness in his face nearly makes my heart stop beating. He looks so lost, so small, staring at the wall across from us, miles away in his thoughts.  
"Harry..." I begin, but his eyes snap down to my face and he regards me with an almost panicked look that makes me stop immediately.  
"Please don't, Lou." He chokes, his eyes widening with pain, so instead of an answer I wrap my arms around his chest and hold him to me, trying to show him that despite whatever happened to his sister, he's not alone. I just hold him for a while, until I feel him relax into my embrace, before I press a kiss to his shoulder and look up at him again.  
"Will you promise me one thing?" I murmur against his skin, carefully waiting for his reaction. He's instantly alert, but after a while, he nods.  
"Will you tell me when it gets too much? Instead of keeping it all in? Will you tell me one day?"  
Harry seems to think about my words for the longest time, his blazing eyes resting on me, assessing and so full of pain, a pain that he tries and fails to hide from me. He seems to find whatever it is he's looking for in my face because eventually, he nods. "I will. One day." 

____________

The next day I sneak from Harrys room just like I did yesterday, and this time I thankfully don't run into Tom. We spent the night talking and cuddling, something I've never really done before. Whenever I had sex my partners either left right after it or fell asleep and then left in the morning without any more physical contact being exchanged. With Harry, it was something completely different though. Being cuddled up against him felt so right, and I can still feel the warmth of his body against mine. Trailing my fingers across my cheek where he kissed me goodbye I try to fight the soppy smile on my face and hop into the shower to get ready for the game today.

 

The game is a blur, a blur of heat and sweat and running bodies. We win 2:1, and truth be told we could have been much better but the heat really took its toll on us. While the South Africans were clearly more accustomed to the weather, we definitely struggled in the blazing afternoon heat, and I have to admit that I'm more than happy when the 90 minutes of tür true are finally over. I'm craving a shower, and one look at my teammates tells me that they all feel the same. It's only been a friendly game, but judging by how exhausted I feel it could've been a 120 minute champions league game, too.  
"Tommo?" Kevin, one of my teammates, shouts and pats me on my back when he reaches me. "We're meeting at the hotel bar at 8 for post-game drinks, you're gonna be there right?" He regards me with assessing eyes, a bit of worry sparkling in them and I realize that I've probably been really off these past few weeks. Almost no partying, no girls, nothing. A few months ago Kevin wouldn't have asked me if I'm coming, it would've been a given. But now he seems unsure of my reaction, and I realise that I've probably been abandoning my mates a bit so I quickly nod my agreement.  
"Sure thing, mate. Can't miss the drinks can I?" Smiling, Kevin pats me on the back again and then turns to leave.  
"Good, Tommo, see you later then. I need a shower, the South African sun is killing me."  
"Same mate, see ya tonight."  
I'm just about to hop into the shower, dressed in just my shorts, when there's a knock at my door. Confused, I peek through the hole in the door, and my heart stutters in my chest when I see Harry standing in front of it, all tossed hair and broad smiles, a duffle bag in his hand.  
"Mr. Tomlinson, may I have a word with you?" he asks swiftly as soon as I open the door, and I stare at him in confusion, just about to ask what the fuck he's on about when I notice a few mates standing at the other end of the corridor. Right, keeping up the illusion. Bodyguard. Professional relationship. Focus, Tomlinson.  
"Well, of course Mr. Styles. Please come in." I can't quite keep the smirk off my face and neither can he, but thankfully the lads are too far away to see our faces, so I just wave at them and close the door after Harry.  
"Now, Mr. Styles, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" I question in my best indifferent voice, playfully raising my eyebrows at him as I sit down on the bed, very aware of the fact that his eyes don't ever leave my naked torso.  
Tugging his lower lip into his mouth he moves to stand in front of me, looking down at me with blazing eyes. Holy fuck, that look alone is enough to make my blood boil. What is he planning?  
"Less of the talking, Mr. Tomlinson. I'm here for some rather physical action." Oh shit. I swallow harshly, fighting to keep my face indifferent and uninterested.  
"Physical action? Would you please specify that, good Sir?" I whisper, my voice a bit too breathless to pretend like I'm not affected by his words, and the smirk on his face tells me that he knows exactly what he's doing.  
"Well," he starts and moves to kneel down on the bed in front of me, though he doesn't touch me. Yet, hopefully. "Yesterday I was interrupted quite rudely during my workout, and a certain someone told me that I look hot while sweaty and messy. Today, I'm here to return the favour, because that certain someone looks just as hot when sweaty, especially in tight black shorts." Giving me a wicked grin he places his hand on my knee and begins to trail his fingers up my leg, raising goosebumps on my skin. I sit frozen, staring at him like a deer in the lights on an oncoming bus, completely lost in his words and his touch and in him.  
"And..." leaning down, he places a quick chaste kiss to my lips before pulling away almost as soon as his lips touch mine - no, I'm definitely not whining like a little boy at the loss of contact, I'm a grown man. A very manly grown man - "I even brought lube. Nothing stopping us this time, baby." Flashing me a proud grin the throws his bag on the bed next to me and reaches inside, then triumphantly holds the small bottle in his hand and I can't help but laugh at his childish excitement.  
"You're quite proud of yourself aren't you?" I tease, grinning widely at his serious nod.  
"Very. You always gotta be prepared, it's rule number one Louis." He explains earnestly, but I can see the humour sparkling in his eyes, making me laugh.  
"Alright, can we stop this zen life lesson crap and get to the part where you fuck me?"  
"Fuck you?" Harry gasps in fake horror, his eyes wide and playful. "So flowery, Mr. Tomlinson."  
"Harry...." I whine, staring up at him like the impatient child I am, getting frustrated because he's still not touching me anywhere else but on my leg. "Come on."  
"Alright, your wish is my command. But first of all, you're wearing too many clothes for my liking. Though I have to admit that I'm quite fond of these shorts...they're very short." Grinning wickedly he slips his hands into my shorts and boxers and tugs them both down in one motion. Holding them up he examines them for a second. "Yep, definitely fond of these. But naked is so much better, don't you agreed?" he questions, trailing his eyes over my now completely exposed body, and winks at me. He fucking winks at me and God, it's hot. He's so playful and teasing, how can I resist him like that? Not that I could ever resist him, but...you know. Life's hard. And not just life, but psst.  
"I do actually, Mr. Styles. Which is why I'm very disappointed to discover that you're still all covered up." Shoes, socks, jeans and shirt? No way. "Off." I demand, pointing to his shirt and jeans.  
"You're a demanding little thing, aren't you?"  
"Off. Now." I repeat forcefully, scowling at him.  
"I think that can be arranged." A few seconds later, he's just as gloriously naked as me, and I greedily take him in, his toned torso and endless legs and sharp v-lines and fuck, he's definitely been carved by God himself. Michelangelo's David is nothing compared to him. Especially in a certain part of his lower body...  
"Happy now?" he questions cheekily, and before I can be appealed by his boldness he's kneeling on the bed again, this time much closer to me, his naked chest hovering over mine and I barely have enough time to reply with a breathless "very" before his mouth is on mine and I'm completely lost in him as our bodies come together and it becomes impossible to tell where I end and he starts. 

_____

"Flamingos? Really?" I snort, eyeing Harry as he focuses on buttoning his shirt, his bottom lip sticking out in concentration, and it's about the cutest and hottest thing I've ever seen, especially with his curls still damp from our shower, falling heavily into his shoulders, his skin smooth and shimmering from the water. Unsurprisingly, I find that I'd be more than willing to go for another round of his physical action, which is slightly worrying because we had sex not even an hour ago, but oh well. What can a man do?  
"Flamingos are beautiful birds, Louis," he scolds me lightly, then walks to the back of the room to put on his boots, giving me a chance to admire him. The shirt really looks a bit ridiculous, but somehow, he makes it work. Actually, it looks fucking amazing on him, the tight fabric shows off his broad shoulders and narrow hips to perfection, and my mouth waters at the sight. Nope, I definitely wouldn't mind round two. With his endless long legs and pink shirt, he looks a bit like a flamingo himself, and when I tell him that he laughs out loud, louder than I've ever heard him laugh before.  
"I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Tomlinson," he announces and moves to stand in some kind of yoga position that reminds me vaguely - very vaguely, really - of a flamingo.  
"Do what you must, Styles." I comment dryly, but the laughter is evident in my voice, and when he picks up one of my socks from the floor and throws it in my face I can't stop the laughter from fully bursting out of me.

 

I'm not drunk, in fact I'm not even tipsy, but even without alcohol clouding my mind it becomes increasingly difficult to stay away from Harry in his stupid flamingo shirt and impossibly tight jeans - really, his legs can't even breathe! And neither can his, uhm, you know... - especially with the way the bar's lights dance in his hair, painting him either a deep red or a light blue. We've put a healthy distance between us right from the start to prevent any temptations, but it doesn't really make things easier as I watch him lean against the bar a few feet away from me, talking to two of my mates. He looks surprisingly relaxed considering that it's a social situation he's in, but then again he can be incredibly charming when he has to be. I don't even notice that I'm completely abandoning the mates I've been talking to, too engrossed in watching Harry as he laughs about something Mark says, head thrown back and curls bouncing, and a weird mixture of relief and sadness, a bittersweet longing, crashes into me. It could be so easy. Harry getting along with my mates, all of us having a fun evening. It could be perfect. I could just walk up to him and kiss him and hold his hand, and nobody would care or judge. But it's not like that, and I know deep down that it will never be like that. Because, my mates are great, really, but they're football players. A gay football player is just not acceptable, is it? And as the sickening realisation that I'll either lose my mates or Harry settles heavily in my stomach, I lean over the bar to order a few vodka shots, needing something stronger to shut off my thoughts and stop me from thinking.

_____

I wake up wrapped in cool sheets and Harry Styles. His head is on my shoulder like it usually is when we sleep together, his arm draped lightly across my stomach, and I can feel his warm breath against my neck. He stirs, the sound of my alarm waking him, so I carefully untangle myself from him and reach for my phone to shut it off.  
"God, I can't wait for the others to be gone so I can just stay in your room and sleep for as long as we want to." I announce and yawn loudly, not even bothering to stifle it. It's way too early for manners.  
"Tonight. Not long too wait." Sitting up behind me, Harry wraps his arms around me and presses a lingering kiss to my shoulder, and I allow myself to sink into his bed warm chest for a few moments before standing up.  
"Thank god. I can't wait for that. The others leave at 11, I'll have to go downstairs to say goodbye to them then I'll come find you, okay?" I quickly jump into my clothes and then glance up at Harry who is watching me from the bed, sleepy eyes burning.  
"Sure. Any plans for today?"  
"I was thinking about exploring the country for a bit? There's a beach not too far from here, maybe we could go there?" I suggest, not really caring about what we do as long as we're doing it together.  
"Sounds good. How about I figure something out while you say goodbye to everyone?"  
"Okay boss." Kneeling down on the bed I press a kiss to his cheek and run my finger through the lights stubble on his chin before pulling away. Hmm, Harry with a stubble is too tempting, but I know that I have to go. So gathering all my self-control I manage to move to the door and slip outside with a small wave of my hand, trying not to look too closely at the naked Harry Styles with messy hair laying in bed, looking too tempting for his own good. 

"And why exactly are you still staying, Tommo?" Josh asks, giving me a quick hug before hoisting his bag over his shoulder.  
"Just need a break, ya know? Going to enjoy the heat and the pool for a few more days." I explain, the lie falling smoothly from my lips. Technically, it's not even a lie. I am going to enjoy the heat and the pool. I'm just not telling them that I'm going to enjoy it with Harry.  
"You're a lucky man, Tomlinson." Terry chimes in, and an unbidden image of Harry in bed, naked, springs to my mind.  
"That I am," I agree, smirking widely, lucky that my mates can't read my mind because that would be...interesting.  
"We're gonna miss your annoying self and your jokes on the journey. The flights gonna be boring without you."  
"Excuse you, Parker, I am not annoying. Ever." Turning around, I find Tom giving me an easy smile, his suitcase in hand.  
"Yeah, whatever floats your boat Tommo. Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night?" He teases, and I find myself laughing along easily. I've been so on edge around Tom lately, always careful to not do or say anything that might give me away, and it feels nice to just banter with him like we always did.  
"I'm sleeping just fine, thanks for your concern though, Tommy boy. And if things get way too boring, you lot still have Terry's snoring to keep you entertained. Now get on that bloody bus before you miss your flight, beauties." We say goodbye after another round of laughter, and as I watch the bus disappear in the distance my excitement grows because finally, finally I am alone with Harry. Let the fun begin.

"Alone at last." I announce loudly, letting the door slam shut behind me, watching as Harry looks up from his laptop, a lazy smile slowly taking over his face. "Are you ready for the fun to begin?" I question, taking the laptop from his lap and straddling him.  
"I am indeed." He rasps, his hands immediately coming to rest on my hips, holding me to him.  
"Good." Pressing a quick kiss to his lips I remove his hands from my hips and stand up, leaving him so utterly confused that it makes me giggle. "Then pack your bags, Styles, we're moving."  
"Moving?"  
"You don't really think I'm going to be spending the next few days in this shithole of a room? No, I booked us a nice room with a proper double bed. This is holidays, Styles. Let's enjoy it."  
Laughing, Harry rises from the bed and steps in front of me so he's grinning down at me, shaking his head in amused disbelief.  
"Louis Tomlinson, you're totally over the top." He announces, but his kiss is warm and urgent and smells of Harry and summer and long nights and something that reminds me a lot of freedom.

____

"I hate hiking. I'm never going to let you decide what we do again, Styles. How can you do this to me?" I groan, keeping my eyes on the ground to make sure that I don't trip and break a leg, or die.  
Truth be told, it really isn't that bad. The landscape is beyond beautiful, and with the feeling of Harrys hand in mine I'm pretty sure I could walk all the way around the world, but I keep complaining just to hear the laughter that falls from his lips every time I do. He looks exquisite in his tight black tanktop and cut-off jeans shorts, his curls held back by a pair of sunglasses, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to jump him right here. But he's determined to climb some bloody mountain, ignoring my suggestions that we should just stay inside and have sex all day - because really, want could be better? - and saying that sex is for the night while the day is for exploring or some equally deep shit. So here we are now, sweating and panting while fighting the South African sun and climbing a fucking mountain.  
"Shut up, Lou. It's going to be so worth it when we reach the top. The view is supposed to be spectacular." Glancing sideways at him, I am just about to retort that my view already is spectacular but instead I just shake my head at him and sigh exaggeratedly, then give him a grin and pick up my speed. "You better hurry up then, lazy one, if you want to enjoy the view before sunset." 

When we finally reach the top after about 2 and a half hours of hiking, my breath is completely taken away. The view around us is everything Harry promised it would be, and more. Right in front of us, the rugged edge of the mountain falls sharply into the ocean, the coastline stretches on endlessly until it finally melts into the horizon far ahead in the distance.  
"Wow," I breathe, my mind too stunned to come up with a more appropriate description but Harry seems to understand.  
"Yeah. Wow," he agrees breathlessly, and I turn to find him gazing at the horizon, his eyes wide and awestruck, long locks ruffled from the breeze, and my god he looks beautiful. Compared to him, to his sharp jawline and those damn pink chiselled lips - oh those lips - and his striking green eyes, the landscape around us seems to fall away, seems to melt into insignificance until he's all that's left, and I get the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him. So I do. Turning to face him I push myself onto my tippy toes and wrap my hands into his hair to pull him down to me, and the moment our lips meet I forget about everything else. I forget about rugged landscape and oceans and beaches and sunshine, because all that matters is him and the way his lips move against mine.  
When we finally break our kiss we still stay as close to each other as possible, and Harry grins down at me with one of his heart-stoppingly beautiful smiles before turning me around to face the ocean once more, and I swear a piece of my heart dies and goes straight to heaven when he pulls me against his chest and rests his head on my shoulder.  
We're quiet for the longest time, just enjoying the fantastic view and the feeling of finally enjoying something together without barriers, without having to hide, safely tucked away in the remote silence of this place.  
"It really is beautiful, isn't it?" I mumble after a while and let my eyes travel down to the coast, to the sparkling blue of the ocean and the steady stream of waves against the shore.  
"Very," Harry agrees, his voice raspy with some unshed emotion, and when I look up to see his face I notice that he isn't even looking at the sea like I am. He's looking at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope you enjoyed this chapter? Please let me know what you think, I love reading your comments.  
> Now let's move on to the real issue here.  
> I saw the boys live, twice, in Vienna and in Brussels, and I was in the third row in Brussels and Harry fucking Styles waved at me in all his glorious beauty, so please go easy on me, I'm still half dead. They're all so fucking beautiful up close and God dammit they were so close to me and they're real people, breathing and laughing and smiling and I have no idea how I survived being that close to them. Jesus.  
> Anyway, have a lovely day/night wherever you are. All the love,  
> \- lily. x


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the holiday in South Africa. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think. x

The beach in South Africa really is something else. Or maybe that's just Harry’s influence. Maybe the beach isn't all that special, but a certain curly haired someone is.   
I can't help but watch him as he emerges from the ocean, slowly walking towards where I'm lounging in he sun, wet curls clinging to his skin and dripping salty streaks of water over his toned torso. He looks well-rested and relaxed after a lazy morning of sleeping in and a late breakfast in one of the hotel's restaurant, and waking up next to him without any responsibilities felt so freeing, so amazing with the way the sun broke through the curtains and danced on his smooth skin. I don't know what it was that made this morning so special, after all I've woken up next to him before. But today just felt different, maybe it's because we're thousands of miles away from rules and prohibitions, safely hidden away in the remote beauty of this country. Or maybe it's because of the moment we shared yesterday, on top of that mountain. It seems like something has shifted in both of us since then, it's like we feel even more at ease around each other, even more comfortable.  
Whatever it is, I can't seem to keep my eyes away from him, walking towards me like a Greek god - he couldn't be any more beautiful if Michelangelo had sculpted him himself, honestly - because he seems to be absolutely glowing. And it's not just the way the sun has started to work its magic on him, dipping his skin into a bronzy gold and burning his nose a little, no. He seems to be glowing from within, and it's making him irresistible. Even more so than usual.   
The fact that he's wearing the most tiny, bright yellow swim-shorts that show off his endless legs doesn't really help calming my equilibrium, so no one can really blame me for the filthy thoughts in my head can they? It should be ridiculous, really, those tiny shorts. When he pulled them out of his suitcase this morning I laughed at him, laughed out loud because really? Miniature yellow shorts? And then he put them on, and I most definitely didn't laugh anymore. They look downright dirty, in the best way possible, and I love it.   
"Come swim with me?" Harry demands, standing in front of me in all his glory, and I have to take a moment to calm my racing thoughts and talk myself out of jumping him right here. I don't think the other sunbathers would approve, truth be told. There aren't too many people around, thank god, but still, I don't want to get arrested on my holidays for public harassment.  
"But I hate swimming," I whine, laughing at his little pout.  
"C'mon Lou, don't be a party pooper." And, what?  
"Oh my god," I splutter, laughter making it difficult for me to speak, "oh my god I can't believe you just said that. Party pooper? Really? How old are you, 8?"   
"Yeah, really. Because that's what you are if you're not going to swim with me." and he looks so adorable, so cute with that earnest expression in his eyes and his little-boy-grin that I just can't say no to him.  
"Race you to the water?" I yell and jump up from my lounger, shooting towards the water. In an instant, Harry is behind me, our laughter mixing as we dive into the cool, salty waves. As soon as I emerge from the waves I realise that Harry is a few feet in front of me, standing with the water up to his chest, so I decide to join him. I carefully waddle over to him, my feet moving smoothly across the sandy ground, when suddenly...  
I re-emerge from the water with salt in my eyes and my hair in front of my face only to find Harry laughing out loud, holding his stomach as he shakes with laughter.   
"You arse!" I splutter, coughing up some water while swatting at his chest, "you knew that there's a chasm and you didn't warn me! Some bodyguard you are, I could've drowned."   
"I would've saved you," he responds calmly, looking super smug, and okay, I can kind of see the humour in all this. Besides, amused Harry is way too adorable to be seriously mad at him, so I swim closer to him and hold onto his shoulders to stay afloat. With a warm smile on his lips he grabs my hips and holds me in place so that the tides can't drift me away from him, and in a moment of boldness I wrap my legs around his waist, completely anchoring me to him.   
And it's surprising, really, when he suddenly dips his head down until his lips meet mine in a soft kiss. I didn't think he'd risk it, even if it's a private beach with a paparazzi ban. There's still people around, people with phones, but as I look over his shoulder I realise that they're all far enough away so they can't see what we're doing, and they're all busy with themselves. The sea is very flat here, so we walked quite a while until the water hit Harry's chest. We're safe, so I dive back in and kiss him again, and again. Kissing him now, at the beach, makes me want to scream it out, makes me want to yell at the entire world that this man is mine and that I want him, desperately. But I don't, I stay quiet and instead focus on kissing him back ferociously, our tongues soon intertwining in a heavy dance.   
"Lou..." he gasps when I pull away for air, and a second later I feel his lips on my neck, sliding smoothly over my already wet skin, sucking and biting as they go.   
A shudder runs through my body, and almost without my permission my hands move from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, fingernails lightly dragging across his skin until I feel him shiver beneath me. I let my lips travel across his chest, sucking first one nipple then the other into my mouth until he trembles with pleasure, then letting my lips attack every inch of skin I can reach, biting merciless kisses over his heated skin, the tiny, whimpered sounds falling from his mouth urging me onward. I want to wreck him. I want to absolutely wreck him, right here, in the sea. But can I? Can we do this? The way I'm sitting on his hips I can feel Harry’s hard-on digging into my thigh, and with one last look over his shoulder to check that we're still out of sight I let my hand travel lower, from his chest over his stomach to the waistband of those ridiculous swimshorts. I let my fingers tease the skin just above his pants a little, until he impatiently bucks up his hips, and with a chuckle I finally dip my hand inside his pants, stroking him into full hardness.  
“Jesus Christ Lou, fucking shit,” Harry curses, his mouth agape, his fingers digging deliciously into my thighs. “You...shit...you want this? Here?”   
“Yes, fuck yes,” I mumble, my lips smooth against the skin of his neck, and at first the only response I get is a deep moan.  
“You still...” Harry gasps eventually, his voice trailing off when I move my lips to nip at the delicate skin over his collarbones, “you still lose from this morning?” he finally manages to ask, breathless, and when I nod eagerly against his skin, he lets out a low growl and removes one of his hands from my hips to palm me through my shorts before he slides them down over my bum. The water is cool against my skin, but my entire body starts burning when he grips my ass and parts my cheeks so he can slide one of his fingers into me.  
And then I let myself get lost in the waves of the sea and waves of pleasure and in him, my anchor.  
_______________________

“Lou?” Harry mumbles, and my breath hitches in my throat when I look up from where I've been reading the newspaper on the bed. We've just come back to the room after a nice dinner, and Harry's hair is still wet from the shower he just took. He's only in his signature black jeans, skintight of course, no shirt, and my mouth goes dry.   
“Yeah?” I croak, not even embarrassed when my voice breaks, because what's the point? That I find Harry beyond attractive should be obvious by now, so why be embarrassed of my body's reaction to him?   
“There's a club downstairs, they're doing a disco-thing tonight. Do you want to go?” Harry offers, running his hands through his hair – a nervous gesture, and I sit up hastily, confused. Harry hates clubbing, so why does he offer to go to a club tonight?  
“You want to go clubbing tonight?”  
“Hmm.” Harry mumbles, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he slowly stalks towards me, a predator hunting his prey. My heart starts beating faster the closer he gets, and when he sets one knee down on the bed in front of me, I finally snap out of my haze.  
“W-why?” I manage to stutter, completely distracted by his half-naked body so close to mine.   
“Because,” Harry mutters, his wide eyes on my naked torso, “I want to do something for you. You like clubbing, so we'll go clubbing.” Before I can say anything in protest, before I have the chance to let him know that he's already doing more than enough for me, he leans down and runs his lips from the waistband of my boxers up to my throat.   
“The sun is doing its wonders on you. You've caught colour.” he whispers, running his nose along the base of my neck before he lifts his face to mine, his eyes filled with wonder. “I like.” With a quick kiss to my lips he stands up, leaving me feeling totally bereft so I can't help but pout.  
“You're a bloody tease, Styles.”   
Laughing, Harry shrugs and winks down at me. “I think you've had enough of me for today, Mr. Tomlinson. Now get dressed, the club's waiting for us.”   
“Never enough of you,” I mumble gruffly, but comply anyway and get off the bed. We get dressed as fast as possible, which is not that easy when you constantly have to stop to kiss each other, but eventually, we're both dressed and ready to leave. Harry's wearing a half-buttoned yellow shirt with red flowers on it, and again, as horrible as it sounds, he totally makes it work. He looks stunning, especially with his tanned skin and wild hair, and I know that keeping my hands off him tonight will be difficult.   
“Harry?” I mumble, halting him when he wants to open the door.   
“Yeah?” He looks down at me, eyes curious, lips curled in a small smile, and my heart constricts painfully at the sight of him.   
“I... I want you to know that you don't have to do this for me. You don't have to prove anything, or...” I trail off when Harry interrupts me with a shake of his head.  
“Lou.” he whispers, stepping in front of me and wrapping one of his arms around my waist, his hand resting on the small of my back just above my bum. “I'm not trying to prove anything. I want to do this. This is something you like to do, and I want to make you happy.” Christ. I swallow harshly, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading in my belly at lightning speed, hitting me so hard that I almost feel dizzy. He wants to make me happy? Holy cow.  
“You...you do make me happy. Every day. We don't need to go clubbing for that.” His face softens, eyes warm and burning into mine with a sincerity they've never had before and I'm breathless once again.   
“You make me happy, too. And it makes me even more happy to see you happy, so lets hit the dance floor okay? I dragged you to the museum and make you cook all the time, I think it's time for me to reciprocate.” Seeing that I want to argue he quickly shuts me up with a kiss, pressing his lips firmly to mine to effectively silence me. “No arguing, or I'll go without you.”   
“Okay, Styles. If that's what you want. Thank you.” Leaning up on my tippy toes I press a kiss to his left cheek and wait for the dimpled smile that always comes when I do this. I don't have to wait for long, and a mischievous look crosses his face. Smirking, he taps his index finger against his right cheek, signalling that he wants a kiss there too. Grinning, I comply. Next, he taps his nose, and I can't help but laugh as I press a kiss to the slightly burned skin there. His chin is next, and then, finally, he points to his lips. I comply eagerly, fisting Harry’s shirt and pulling him into my body before searing our lips together. Harry hums lowly in his throat, surprised by my attack, his face tilting involuntarily to press our lips tighter together.   
“Sorry, but you can't make a speech like that and not expect me to lose my mind a little, Styles.”  
Harry chuckles into my mouth, his breath warm on my wet lips, and I can't help but laugh in return. “I'll try to remember that for the next time.” He promises and lifts one of his hands to run his fingers over my cheek.  
“Next time?” I wonder breathlessly, hoping that Harry plans to make many more little speeches like that because fucking hell, they make my head spin in the best way.  
“I'm a man of many words, Louis,” he smirks before bending his long body to press a last, lingering kiss to my lips. 

 

The club looks amazing, bright lights dancing across the black marble floor and reflecting off the mirrors on the wall. Harry is towering over me, the lights illuminating his curls in a dark purple colour, and boy, he can dance. I watch in total fascination as he swings his hips smoothly, the muscles in his impossibly long legs twitching visibly through his jeans. Half of his chest is visible to me thank to his halfway unbuttoned shirt, and I want nothing more than to suck marks all over the skin on his chest. Or bite the inside of his thighs. Maybe both? Harry glances down at me, a challenging look in his eyes, and I know that he's perfectly aware of the effect his dancing body has on me, that bloody tease. He sways his hips faster in time to the music, the sweaty sheen on his skin making him glow in the flashing lights, and I involuntarily bite my lip to keep myself from groaning out loud, teeth biting into the soft skin there. Suddenly he's right in front of me, invading my personal space as he leans down until his lips brush against the shell of my ear.   
“I want to bite that lip.” His whispered words hold so, so many promises, and I shiver at the thought of what these promises might entail. The small movement of my body seems to push Harry into action and he reaches out to grip my wrist, long fingers locking around my skin, before dragging me through the room. I go willingly, ready to let him to whatever he wants to do to me, and follow him to a dark, more private corner at the other side of the room. I expect him to release my wrist once we are hidden away in the corner, but he doesn't. Instead, he tugs on it to bring my body in front of his and folds his own body around mine, his chest to my back, and oh. I can feel him moving against my back, his crotch sliding teasingly against my bum, and he's definitely excited about this new position. Throwing him a wicked grin over my shoulder I begin to move, winding my body in time to the music, swaying my hips to the beat as I let the music guide me, eyes closed. I feel Harry pushing himself closer to me, both arms now wrapped around my waist from behind as we become one, one body winding to the beat of the music, his breathing hot and harsh against my ear, matching my own breathless pants.   
“You're so fucking hot, Lou,” Harry growls into my ear, and my knees nearly give in at his words. Because fuck, the way he's looking down at me, hungry eyes blazing like he wants to devour me right here, right now. Please? I smile, purposely biting my lip again, and I see rather than hear his sharp intake of breath. I feel so empowered, so eligible with the way he watches me, blazing green eyes following every movement of my body. Turning around in his embrace I wrap my arms around him and pull him down to me to kiss him roughly, my hunger matching his. Sweaty, slippery skin meets, lips sucking and biting, and it's wild and rough and absolutely perfect with the bass pumping through my veins. When we break our heated kiss Harry immediately reaches for my wrist again, and this time I don't wait for him to pull me through the room. I know what he wants, and fuck, I want it too. I want him. So I immediately head toward the exit of the club, Harry hot on my heels, one of his hands still on my wrist, the other spread across my hip. We burst through the doors of the club, avoiding a kissing couple in the foyer, and stumble towards the elevator, giggling as we go. The elevator doors close behind us with a ding, effectively shutting us off from civilisation, and without missing a beat Harry pins me against the cold steel walls, effectively trapping my body between his and the wall. I moan into his open mouth, grinding my hips up to meet his and pulling roughly at his hair to pull his lips closer to mine.  
“Like horny teenagers,” Harry whispers into my ear, grinning widely, and I can't help but giggle in response at our silly behaviour. As soon as the doors open again we stumble into our hotel floor, hiding our giggles in each other's mouth, lips locking while Harry stumbles backwards into the room and I follow him, my hands struggling to unbutton his shirt. Once it's done, I carelessly throw it onto the floor behind me, my shirt soon joining his. Shoes and socks and pants are thrown all across the room, and finally, we sink onto the bed, the sheets cold against our naked skin, both of us laughing breathlessly as our bodies come together in the most perfect way possible. 

Harry is fast asleep next to me, his bottom lip sticking out in a cute little pout while he snores quietly, and I subconsciously match my breathing to his. He looks so beautifully peaceful in the dim light from the clock on the bedside table, shadows sharpening the edge of his jaw and the hollows of his cheeks. Sighing, I tighten my grip on his hand that's resting lightly on my chest, as if even in his sleep he needs to keep up the contact to make sure that I'm actually there. It makes my heart warm in a way that excites and terrifies me massively, because it's so unlike anything I've ever felt before. I gently turn onto my side to face him fully, careful not to wake him up, and watch this man that came barging into my life and turned it completely upside down while he sleeps peacefully next to me. In our shared hotel room. During our shared holidays. It's something I've never done before, going on holidays with someone. Sure, I've been to places with my mates, but those holidays were different. It was never about one person alone, it was never about sex in the sea or falling asleep together after a long day hiking. Thinking about it, I realise that there are a lot of things I do with Harry that I've never really done before. The sleeping together, for example. And I don't mean having sex, I've always had a lot of that. No, I mean simply sleeping with another person. Cuddling. I've never had it, and I never thought I needed it. Until Harry came along and showed me how perfect it felt to fall asleep with the warmth of another body next to you. I've never done cooking before, I've never done dates. And again, I can't help but wonder what Harry and I are. What our status is. Because dates – and that's what I consider the museum and the restaurants – are very boyfriend-y things to do. But we're not boyfriends, are we? We kiss, we fuck, we spend so so much time together, but none of that is out in the open. None of that is known to anyone but us. So, closeted boyfriends maybe? No. Boyfriends love each other. I don't love Harry. Do I? I've never really been in love, so I don't fully know what it even means. I like spending time with Harry, I miss him whenever he's not around, I love making him laugh. But what does that mean? Friends with benefits? I honestly don't know, and the more I think about it, the more my head starts to ache. I don't know how I feel, and I sure as hell don't have any clue how Harry feels. He surely doesn't love me. What am I to him, a sex partner? His secret fucktoy? No, I immediately dismiss the thought. Harry wouldn't do that, would he? The look on Harry's face when he smiled at me on top of that mountain comes to my mind, his eyes soft and wide, and a foolish, silly hope starts spreading through me, unbidden but also unstoppable. A hope that maybe...  
Sighing, I snuggle closer to Harry's sleeping form and rest my head against his chest. Harry moves automatically, like a magnet to me, his arm that rested lightly on my chest tightening around my waist in his sleep. He's so warm, so solid, that it immediately calms my racing thoughts. Whatever it is that he's willing to offer, I know I'll take it because I could lose him so easily. There are so many obstacles in our way. First of all, my sexual orientation. Gay. I whisper the word into the night, hidden in bedsheets and darkness, testing the way it feels on my tongue. I said it once, questioningly, to my Mum. I am gay. Wow, that's a revelation. I can't help the small chuckle that escapes my lips, but it's not an amused one. It's pure panic. I am gay. Maybe that's why I always fucked so many girls, because I was looking for something they simply couldn't give to me, but I never even thought about trying it with men. Looking up at Harry, I remember what he told me about him coming out. About how his family was so supportive. Snippets from the conversation with my Mum come back to my mind, 'you don't have to be scared Louis, we don't have a problem with it at all. You're my baby, and nothing will ever change that. You'll always be my baby, no matter if you're gay or straight', and I know that my family would support me no matter what. My family is not what I'm worried about, it's my career. And his. And oh, this is such a mess. I know that I'll have to decide at some point, I'll have to decide between my new-found sexuality and my career. But not yet, and not tonight. So I just smile down at Harry, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by what he must've gone through when he came out. He said his Mum and sister supported him, but still, it must've been one hell of a time. I can't imagine that gay bodyguards are any more accepted than gay footballers, so how on earth did he manage to keep his career running? And if he managed to do it, maybe I can too?  
His sister. Another mystery that my minds seems to decide needs to be analysed tonight. Something happened to his sister, I'm certain of that. He obviously adored her, judging from the way he talks about her, but the pained expression on his face every time she is mentioned makes it clear that something is seriously wrong. Harry doesn't want to talk about it, but I can only hope that he knows I mean it when I say that he can always talk to me when it gets too much. Of course, I don't know if he'd even find comfort in talking to me, but if he wants me to, I'll listen.  
“I'll always listen.” The words are a quiet whisper in the night, and nothing changes in Harry's breathing, nothing indicates that he heard them. They're my secret, my secret promise to him. So with one last, deep sigh, I close my eyes and cuddle closer to him, breathing in his scent until I finally fall into a peaceful sleep.

 

When I wake up, I am alone. The sheets on Harry's side are cool, and with a glance at the clock I realise that it's nearly 10 am. Shit, I slept late. Well, considering that I didn't fall asleep until almost 4 in the morning last night, I think I am allowed to sleep in today. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I stand up, just in my boxers, and spot Harry on the balcony, reading a book on the lounger in the corner. He's shirtless, always a welcome sight, and I immediately make my way over to him. The sound of the balcony door opening alerts him to my presence and he quickly sets the book down to smile up at me, lifting one hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the already merciless sun.  
“Look who finally awakens,” he teases, and I can't help but grin at his playful mood.  
“Couldn't sleep last night.”   
“Oh. Why?” I move to stand in front of him and he immediately reaches up to clasp my waist between his hands, then pulls me down until I'm resting between his spread legs, my back to his chest. He kisses my temple, soft lips cool against my bed-warm skin, and I shiver involuntarily.  
“Don't know. Too busy watching you sleep.” I decide not to tell him about my late night overthinking, at least not yet. I don't want to ruin the morning with my doubts and problems, so I decide to tease him a bit instead.  
“You watched me sleep?” Harry gasps, and when I turn around to look up at him I notice the fine blush covering his cheeks.   
“Yep. You snore.” I can't help but laugh out loud at the horror on Harry's face, but I quickly lean up and press a kiss to his lips to erase it. “Breakfast?”   
“Yes, please. First breakfast, then you for dessert.” 

A filling breakfast and two blow-jobs later, Harry and I are lazing at the beach again, both of us totally relaxed. He's reading while I'm listening to music and browsing on my iPad, reading about the latest developments in the football world. A handful of players in lower leagues came out as gay, but no-one in the higher leagues. It's simply not acceptable in football, which is sad, but maybe all they need is someone to go ahead and set an example. Can that person be me? I don't know. Gay Premier League footballer Louis Tomlinson. I know that I'm widely accepted in the football world, but I doubt that I have that much power. With a sickening feeling in my stomach I shut off my iPad and sit up.   
“Harry?” He looks up from his book, eyeing me curiously with expectant eyes. “Lunch?”   
“Yes, boss.” We gather our stuff, knowing full well that we won't be able to return to the beach today as it's the last day of our holiday. The plane will take us back to a cold and rainy England later that day, and a heavy sigh leaves my lips. This place was so good for us, it was so refreshing to be away from cameras and judgemental people for once, hidden away in the safety of a posh hotel with a private beach. Back to reality soon, and the thought makes me sick.  
“Lou? Where are you going?” Harry wonders, confusion clear on his lovely face when I march straight past the restaurant where lunch is served.   
“I have a surprise for you.” I announce slyly, and, grabbing his wrist, I drag him through the hotel to one of the smaller restaurants that is only open for dinner. A waiter is waiting for us, though, just like I organised it. He leads us to one of the restaurant's beautifully decorated private dining rooms, and I watch amusedly as Harry's mouth pops open in surprise.  
“I thought since it's our last day here, we'd have a nice private lunch to finish off these wonderful holidays. What do you think?”   
Harry smiles, a slow, wide smile that lazily spreads across his face, and rounds the table until he's standing next to me. Lifting his hand he gently pushes my fringe out of my face and then runs his fingers across my jaw, holding my hand in place.  
“Louis Tomlinson, you're totally over the top. I love it, thank you.” A soft kiss is pressed to my lips before the waiter returns and Harry and I take our seats across from each other. Lunch is delicious, and the conversation flows easily between us. So much has changed between us during those last days we spent here, it's like things are even easier between us. Even more natural. Harry laughs out loud at my impression of Tom when he got too drunk at the club's summer party two years ago and started talking to a tree, and my god, I love his laugh. I love watching the way his nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle. He looks a bit like a squished hamster, and it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen.   
By the time dessert comes round, we're both holding our stomachs, tears clouding my vision from laughing too much. But as soon as I see the cake, one slice on just one plate, just like I instructed, a smirk spreads across my face. I have plans for this cake. The waiter dutifully puts the plate down in front of me, and, after instructing him that he isn't to come back into the room until we come out, I dig the fork into the soft chocolate cream. I raise my glance at Harry, holding up the forkful of cake. “Want some?”  
I watch as realisation spreads across his features, the frown on his face being replaced by an easy smirk. “Please,” he rasps, his voice already deeper than usual, and I involuntarily squeeze my legs together.   
He leans across the table towards me, giving me a nice view of his collarbones just visible through the collar of his shirt, and I hold the fork out to him, carefully trying to stop my hand from shaking. I can't help the little tremble, though, and Harry's smirk deepens when he notices it. His sinfully plump lips wrap around the fork, dragging along the steel as he pulls off to get every last bit of the creamy chocolate, and my mouth goes dry. I watch, transfixed, as he slowly licks his lips, his tongue darting out to get a crumb from the corner of his mouth. Cocking one eyebrow up he watches me with hooded eyes, before mumbling a dark “delicious,” that sends a wicked shiver down my spine. “You should try some.”  
“Oh, I think I will, Mr. Styles.” I dip the fork into the cake again, but this time put it into my own mouth and make a show of moaning around it in appreciation of the soft chocolate melting on my tongue. Harry's eyes widen, pupils dilated, and I chuckle to myself, relishing in the knowledge that I have this effect on him.   
“Enjoying the cake, Mr. Tomlinson?” Harry asks darkly, his voice rough like gravel and oh so deep.  
“Very,” I confirm, trying to appear nonchalant but my breathless tone gives me away. “It really is delicious.” I mumble, smacking my lips together, and I watch as Harry's fingers subconsciously swipe across his own lips in response.   
“I know something else that is delicious.”   
“Oh, really. And what is that?” I wonder innocently and pop another piece of cake into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully without dragging my eyes away from Harry's face.  
“You.” he mouths, and I nearly choke. Holy shit, now we're getting where I want this to go. Game on.   
“Really? But this cake really is fantastic, I have to admit as much. Would you like some more, Mr. Styles?” I mutter, but the words nearly get stuck in my throat when Harry pushes his chair back and stands up. He walks around the table, slow but steady strides bringing him in front of me. He leans down, arms resting on the table, and regards me with wicked amusement, a wry smile on his lips.  
“No, thank you. I know what your game is, Louis, and I think it's time for my favourite dish.” Before I can reply, Harry's arms are wrapped around my waist and pull me up from the chair, the cake immediately forgotten. He's on me in a second, his lips on mine, tongue licking into my mouth, and it only takes a split second for me to respond, equally ferocious. I lock my arms around his neck, one of my hands curling into his hair to tug roughly, eliciting a low groan from him. I melt into him, my body pressed flush against his when he smooths his hands down my back until they reach my arse and grip my cheeks tightly.   
“Want to suck you,” he mumbles into my neck, lips moving smoothly over my skin, and I easily sink into the sensation.   
“Please,” I gasp, Harry's lips vibrating against the base of my throat as he chuckles. Kisses are sucked to my neck as his hands wander around my waist to the front of my body, and my back involuntarily arches into him when he palms me through my jeans. Discovering that I'm already fully hard Harry groans out loud, making me whimper in return.  
“So hard for me,” he whispers appreciatively and drops to his knees in front of me, pulling my pants down with him. The sight alone is enough to nearly make me burst, Harry kneeling in front of me with wild hair, licking his lips in anticipation.   
A hiss escapes my mouth when his lips wrap around my cock, and Jesus, Harry is merciless today. He sucks relentlessly, one of his hands against my hip to hold me firmly in place, the other gently cupping my balls, and shit.   
“H-harry...” I moan, my breath hitching in my throat as my legs begin to shake.   
“Come for me, baby. Be a good boy.” Harry mumbles, his voice rough, before wrapping his lips back around me, his clouded eyes never leaving mine.   
“Shhhit...” The cry leaves my lips unchecked, and I can only hope that no one is walking past the restaurant at this moment, but I'm past the point of caring. Harry moans around my cock in return, and the vibration of his voice around me sends me on my way. I squeeze my eyes shut and explode powerfully into his mouth, hips stuttering, and if it wasn't for Harry holding me upright I would've crashed straight to the ground.   
I open my eyes just in time to see Harry licking his lips, a sinful grin on his face.   
“Absolutely delicious.” he declares, and I chuckle weakly as I sink to my knees next to him, my head still spinning wickedly. Still, I immediately reach over and wrap one hand around his neck, hauling him in for a kiss. It's filthy, tongues touching before our lips do, and I absolutely love it. I gently push his shoulders back until he's lying on the cold marble floor beneath me, eyes glossy and pupils blown. I wrap my teeth around his bottom lip and tug one last time before sliding down along his body towards the hem of his pants, relishing in the way his own body trembles with anticipation.   
“Hmm, what do we have here?” I whisper playfully and dust my lips over his still clothed erection, smiling when his hips immediately snap up in search of proper friction. “Shall I help you out with this?” I ask teasingly, moving my hand to palm him through his jeans, laughing softly when he groans in frustration. “I'll take that as a yes.” With that, I decide to be merciful and push his jeans and boxers down to his knees in one motion. I kiss my way from one hipbone to the other, teeth nipping at the soft skin, my tongue running through the light dusting of hair on his lower stomach, while I move one of my hands to corkscrew around his cock at a punishing pace. I squeeze him gently, my other hand moving to cup his balls, and his hips buck up in time to a hissed, “shit, Louis...” Hiding a smile in his skin I move my hands faster, tighter around him, my lips working relentlessly, sucking bruises into the soft skin at the inside of his thighs, until his body begins to shiver and he comes into my hand with a shouted, “fuck, Lou!”  
We're both on the floor next to each other, the tiles cold against our sweaty bodies, both of us trying to catch our breaths.  
“Louis?” Harry pants, propping himself up on one arm next to me to smile down at me.  
“Yeah?” I gasp, and Harry's smile widens at my breathy tone.  
“Walk on the beach?” 

Harry's hand is warm in my own and so, so huge, it nearly cups my smaller one completely. I never thought he'd risk holding hands in public like this, but since he led me away to a more private part of the beach, I think we're safe. Neither of us speaks as we let our glances travel over the ocean, enjoying the sun and the feeling of our entwined hands while we still can. The sand is soft underneath my bare feet, crunching sounds barely reaching my ear with every step we take, until I tug at Harry's hand to get him to stop. He smiles down at me, a soft, shy smile, his hair windswept, his nose burnt, and my heart constricts painfully.  
“Thank you, Louis.” he whispers, finally breaking the silence, his voice smooth against the sound of waves crashing against the sand.   
“What for?”   
“For this holiday. For giving us some time together, away from paps and media.” He gently tugs at my hand and I go willingly, sinking into his welcoming arms. “It was perfect. Thank you.” A soft kiss is pressed to my temple, two strong arms holding me to his chest, and I sigh wistfully.   
“You're welcome. I had a wonderful time, I'm glad I could make this possible for us.” I lift my lips to his neck to underline my words, and Harry squeezes me in response, holding me even closer to him. Taking a deep breath, I inhale his scent and try to brace myself for what I'm going to say next.  
“Harry? I think... I think that I'm gay. I thought about it last night, and I finally admitted it. I don't want to make it official yet, but I finally accepted it for myself.” I feel Harry go absolutely still against my body, so I pull away from him to look up at him, fearful. What I see is a blazing look, a look full of surprise and pride and something warm, something that looks a lot like hope.  
“You sure?” he whispers breathlessly, his eyes wide, and I nod determinedly.   
“I'm sure. And terrified.” A weak laugh escapes my lips, and Harry immediately leans down to press his lips against mine in a soft kiss.  
“Don't be terrified. It's a part of who you are. It's scary, yes, but you'll make it work. You're strong enough.” And he sounds so sure, so sincere, that I can almost believe him.   
“You think so?” I mumble, my voice cracking, but Harry nods firmly.  
“I know it.” And then his lips are back on mine, his hand cupping my own again and holding our entwined hands up against his chest while we kiss, and it's a promise. A promise that he'll go through this with me, that I'm not alone because he's by my side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find any typos, congrats, you're allowed to keep them. I'm on my period means I'm miserable and emotional and my brain is fried, so I can't promise that my 'proof-reading' was very effective today. I hope you like it anyway x   
> All the love,  
> Lily x


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!  
> Yaaay, another chapter without you having to wait weeks for it!  
> I was in the mood for something soppy, overly sweet and gooey, so I hope this does the deed. The next chapter will be more interesting, things will start picking up speed from there, so I just wanted to squeeze in something adorable before the entire world explodes. Anyway, moving on. Happy reading x 
> 
> PS: For some reason, through all these South Africa chapters, I couldn't stop listening to Toto's 'Africa', an oldie but a goodie that you can find ob Youtube if you want to check it out. I don't even know why I listened to it so much, apart from the title it doesn't really have anything to do with the story but I kind of like the vibe the song adds to the chapters, if you know what I mean? x

Reality sucks, I think grumpily as I toss the covers off me and move to the window, staring out into a misty London. I let my fingers brush over a small crack in the window, subconsciously, my mind far away at a place where the sun shines and the ocean is endless and I get to wake up next to Harry.  
Harry couldn't come in last night when he dropped me off here, thanks to the paparazzi that followed us all the way from the airport to my street. It was like a smack in the face, seeing all the flashing cameras and shouting men trying to get my attention. It was the harsh reality, and after those wonderful days of not having to care about anything it brought me back down to earth with a sickening crash. Harry immediately snapped back into bodyguard mode and led me through the hordes of photographers, his body shielding mine, his arm protectively around my shoulder. But it wasn't like the way he held me close when we were alone, with his eyes crinkled and lips smiling. It was business, it was his job, and the thought made me sick. Seeing Harry actually doing his bodyguard duties is always like a splash of cold water in my face, the way he behaves all professional and distant, his eyes without their usual glow.  
Shuddering, I retract my hand from the window and head downstairs for breakfast. My suitcase is still unopened in the hallway where Harry left it yesterday, and with a sigh I decide to just get on with it and do a round of laundry, so I unceremoniously zip it open and dump all the clothes into a laundry basket. Walking through the living room I grab the remote and switch on the stereo, then make my way to the laundry room with the Neighbourhood crooning about sweaters and beaches in the background.  
Sighing, I stuff the clothes into the washing machine, the smell of sea and sun that still clings to them making my heart ache in my chest.  
Just as I'm about to put my last shirt into the machine my hand wraps around something that definitely isn't a t shirt. Frowning, I pull the small item out from where it was wrapped up in the shirt, and realise that it's a small box, sleek and black, and my heart jumps in my chest. Harry. It must've been him, no one else had access to my suitcase. With my heart pounding madly against my ribcage I slowly open the small box, and I'm greeted with a small note, black ink staring back at me, written in Harry's elegant handwriting.

_Louis,_

_thank you for a wonderful time. I saw this and thought of you._

_H. x_

Fuck. A shaky breath pushes its way out of my lungs, lips trembling when they stretch into a small smile. It's a bracelet. A black leather bracelet, with two small, silver charms attached to it. A mountain, and a slice of cake. Oh, the cake, I think darkly, licking my lips at the memory of feeding Harry the delicious cake, his lips wrapped around the fork...and afterwards...Jesus. Yes, that was a good time. Very good indeed. I giggle one last time at the thought before my eyes snap back down to the bracelet, still resting in the box. I gingerly take it out to examine it, the dark, smooth leather and the contrasting silver charms, and oh god. Harry got me a bracelet. He bought me a bracelet during our holiday because it made him think of me. Jesus Christ. I swallow harshly and slump back against the washing machine, my body suddenly weak. I never saw him buy anything so he must've bought it when I was lazing at the beach and he wandered off, I vaguely remember seeing some shops just outside of our hotel. So Harry Styles thinks of me when we're not together. He thinks of me enough to buy me a bracelet. Does that mean that he feels the same ridiculous pull towards me that I feel towards him? Does it mean that just like I'm constantly thinking about him, his thoughts always come back to me, too? Hope hits me hard, crashing into me like a tidal wave and flooding my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, a weak chuckle escaping my lips, and shake my head in disbelief. He bought me a fucking bracelet. I've never worn bracelets before but I put it on without hesitation, my trembling fingers fumbling with the latch until I finally have it secured around my wrist. It feels odd against my skin, the cool press of the leather a constant reminder of Harry and the wonderful time we had. Squinting, I bring my wrist up to my face to examine the small charms closely, watching the way they dangle from my wrist, and a broad grin nearly splits my face in half. It feels a lot like it did when he kissed me at the beach after I told him that I've accepted to be gay, this warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling in my chest and clouding my mind. A promise.  
Oh, Harry. I sigh, cradling the hand with the bracelet to my chest, and smile up at the ceiling of my laundry room. Harry, yes. I'm in desperate need of a dose of crinkly-eyed smiling Harry and his floppy curls, my brain decides. So I throw the last shirt into the washing machine, only to discover that it's not even mine. It's his. One of his signature black shirts that he always wears when he's not in the mood for flamingos and yellow flowers. Smiling, I pick it back up and press it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smells of the sea and sunscreen and so unmistakably of Harry that I can't help but inhale several lungfuls of the smell before laughing weakly and standing up. I start the washing machine, then sprint upstairs to my bedroom with the bracelet around my wrist and the shirt clutched tightly in my hand.

_______________  
**To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:46**  
**What are you up to today Curly?**  
_______________

The text is sent with trembling fingers, and I decide not to mention the bracelet yet. Or the shirt. I want to thank him in person. Harry's response comes in a few moments later, and it immediately makes me smile.

_______________  
**From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:47**  
**I was just about to text you. Not much actually, just did some laundry. Want to meet up?**  
_______________  
**To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:49**  
**YES PLEASE!**  
**And, fyi, I did laundry too.**  
_______________

There it is, a hint that I unpacked my suitcase and took my clothes out. So I wait, my breath held, for his answer, wait to see if he realises that I must've discovered his little gift then. If he did, he doesn't mention it, though.

_______________  
**From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:52**  
**Eager, Mr. Tomlinson?**  
**No way! You did laundry? Do you even know how to use a washing machine?**  
_______________

I snort, pretending to be offended by his question but if anything, I'm endeared. I love our banter and teasing, nothing will ever change that.

_______________  
**To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:55**  
**Always eager when it comes to you.**  
**Excuse you, of course I do! I'm a proper housewife. Or man. Whatever.**  
_______________  
**From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 10:57**  
**Houseman, hm? That's good to know.**  
**You up for a picnic?**  
_______________

A picnic. Of course Harry Styles is the type of guy to invite you to a picnic. I haven't had a picnic ever since I was 8 or so, it's totally cheesy and outdated and I absolutely love it, so I eagerly agree. We decide to meet at the entrance to Hampstead heath just down the road from where I live at 1, since I'll have training at 4 today and this will give us enough time for a nice picnic.  
I get ready at lightning speed, the leather of the bracelet slowly warming up against my skin, the charms sending a broad smile across my face every time they tingle so I end up spitting toothpaste all over my sleepshirt. Grinning and brushing your teeth is not a good combination, apparently. Lesson learned.  
My feet carry me out of the house swiftly, legs bouncing as I make my way down Spaniards Road, the sun finally peeking through the trees that frame both sides of the road. People walk past me, bleak looks on their faces, eyes either set on the ground or their phones, and I'm glad that no one seems to recognise me for a change.  
Reaching our meeting point I lean against the fence that shields Hampstead Heath from civilisation, and wait. A whistle leaves my mouth, almost subconsciously, and I glance around the trees and bushes surrounding me. I've never appreciated them before, but now, after those days of blissful silence, it seems like an oasis of peace in a too big, too busy city.  
Harry looks like the sun. Like the actual sun, with the way his skin glows and his eyes shine. He's just got this light around him, it's impossible to miss. He's the sun in a sea of pale faces in this washed-out city, and he totally takes my breath away as he makes his way up to where I'm standing, picnic basket in hand.  
“Hi.” I breathe when he finally reaches me, and he nods back at me, an amused sparkle glimmering in his eyes. I want nothing more than to launch myself at him but of course we can't, not here next to this busy street, so we just smile at each other with smiles so wide they look painful.  
“You look like a dirty fairytale fantasy. Little Red Riding Hood?” I tease, nodding towards the basket in his hand and trying not to get distracted by the way his arm muscles move beneath his tanned skin.  
“Could be the title to a porn clip. Are you the Big Bad Wolf then?” Harry retorts, grinning wickedly, and I can't help but laugh out loud, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.  
“You're going to be the death of me one day. C'mon, lets dive into the forest, I want to kiss you.” Harry nods happily, and together we slip through the opening in the fence and into Hampstead Heath. To our right, London rises in the distance, the skyscrapers of Liverpool Street and Canary Wharf flickering in the light of the sun, far away below us. We stop for a moment to admire the view, our shoulders barely touching.  
“It's a nice view, isn't it? Not quite as spectacular as the view from that mountain, but still impressive.” Harry mumbles, voice ever so deep, and a shudder runs through me at the memory of how he looked at me on top of that mountain. My free hand involuntarily wraps around the bracelet, thumb swiping over the mountain charm attached to it.  
“The mountain was incredible,” I whisper, my voice wavering, and Harry looks down at me with curiosity in his eyes. Then he smirks, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in the typical Styles-smirk, and he gently bumps his hip against mine.  
“Nice shirt, by the way.”  
Grinning, I look down at the way Harry's black shirt floods over my torso. It's way too big on me, nearly reaches down to my knees, but it smells of Harry and I absolutely love the idea of wearing his shirt.  
“Some secret fairy put it in my suitcase.” I explain, winking up at him, and his smirk deepens.  
“Secret fairy, hm?”  
“I believe her name is Little Red Riding Hood.” That makes Harry bark out a laugh, shoulders hunching and face set in the 'squished-hamster-look' he always has when he's laughing really hard, and I smile fondly. We keep walking, our hips and shoulders bumping occasionally, and I see Harry's eyes flicker down to my wrist, a stupidly broad smile on his lips, eyes wide, but he doesn't comment on the bracelet. Neither do I; not yet anyway.

  
Harry pulls me down a small, steep path to our right that leads straight into the forest, and I follow him obediently until we reach a pond. It's not man-made like the other, well known ponds of the Heath. This one is smaller, not nearly as perfectly-shaped, and seems to be of natural origin, with wild bushes and flowers lining the edges and a small, wooden pier peeking into the water. Harry leads me towards said pier and past it, where a giant tree sits on top of a small hill. We're perfectly hidden away behind some bushes and have a lovely view over a meadow on one side and the pond on the other side, so Harry spreads out the blanket he had in his basket and flops down on it. Patting the blanket by side he motions for me to join him, and so I do. I sit down next to him, legs crossed, and immediately he reaches out and places his hand on my cheek, long fingers brushing my jaw as he pulls me in for a kiss.  
“You're wearing the bracelet.” he whispers against my lips, our foreheads touching, and when I open my eyes it's to find his burning into mine with a scorching intensity that makes me shiver.  
“I love the bracelet. Thank you.” I mumble back and dive in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Another one of those stupid broad smiles parts his lips, his eyes dancing with joy, and my heart constricts painfully. He's too damn beautiful to be real.  
“You're welcome. I've never seen you wearing any kind of jewellery so I wasn't sure if you were going to wear it, but I saw it and thought it would suit you.” Harry explains with a shrug that is probably supposed to be nonchalant, but his nervousness is palpable.  
“Of course I'm going to wear it. It's from you, so...” I raise my hands as if the rest of the sentence is obvious, and Harry's face softens, eyes melting into burning green, and he gently lifts his free hand to run it through my hair, brushing my fringe out of my face.  
“You're wearing my shirt and my bracelet. Do you have any idea how desirable you look right now?” Harry groans quietly, voice rough like gravel, his lips moving from the corner of my mouth over my cheek up to my temple, and I stop breathing for a moment.  
“Show me,” I dare him, and it's as if a switch was flipped in his brain. He's on me in a second, his body pinning mine to the ground, his mouth on mine almost bruisingly hard. I part my legs so that he's laying between them, my body immediately accepting his, and I shudder as his hands begin to explore my torso, pushing underneath my shirt – his shirt – and crawling up the skin across my ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Can you hand me the strawberries, please?” Harry mumbles from where his head is resting on my stomach and I hum my agreement, running my fingers through his hair. I don't move right away, though, too content to be laying here after a thorough snogging session and two of Harry's delicious sandwiches. The sun has moved across the horizon, shining down on us though I can see some clouds coming up to our right.  
“Strawberries, please Lou.” Harry whines again and lifts his head to pout up at me, lips still swollen and bitten red. I smirk proudly at the wild expression on his face, eyes glossy and hair a mess. All my doing, and I fucking love it.  
“Okay, okay. Patience, Styles.” I laugh and sit up to reach for the basket next to me. It contains a small box of strawberries, the fruits ripe and red like Harry's lips, and I quickly ban any naughty thoughts from my mind as I hand him the container.  
“I was about to fall asleep, can't believe I'm moving for you. Seriously, Styles, I'm so far up your ass you should make me pay rent.” Harry nearly dies of laughter at that, and I can't quite keep the fond smile off my face as I watch him holding his stomach and wiping a tear from his cheek.  
“Jesus, that was a good one Louis,” he breathes once he's calmed down, occasional chuckles still shaking his body. “You really are funny sometimes.”  
“Sometimes? I'm the king of jokes, thank you very much.” I protest dryly and slap his forehead, which gets me a strawberry thrown right into my face. Cheers.  
“Hey, I have an idea.” Harry exclaims excitedly and sits up straight, the box of strawberries on his lap. “I'll throw strawberries at you, and for every berry you catch with your mouth you'll get a kiss.”  
He looks up at me, eyes wide and expectant, and how could I say no?  
“You're such a child sometimes, Styles, I swear.” I chuckle and sit up in front of him. I make a show of cracking my knuckles and rolling my shoulders, pretending to get ready for the challenge, and Harry just smirks knowingly.  
“Ready?”  
“Ready. Fire away, Styles.” I nod, sending him a challenging look, and then a strawberry lands on my cheek.  
“Ew, hey, I wasn't ready yet!” I squeak, and Harry laughs out loud while picking the strawberry up from my jeans and popping it into his own mouth.  
“You just said you were ready, don't play games with me Tomlinson.” Harry warns playfully, and I growl at him.  
“Okay, then go on and...HEY!” Another strawberry hits me on my forehead, then another one on the chin.  
“It's like you don't even want me to kiss you.” I pout, wiping red juice from my face and licking it off my fingers afterwards.  
“Well, I don't.” Harry shrugs, face impassive but I can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes.  
“Oh, really? Twenty minutes ago I got a very, very different impression.”  
“Don't know what you're talking about,” Harry smirks and throws another strawberry, and this time I lean my head back and open my mouth just in time to catch the fruit between my lips.  
“Ha!”, I yell triumphantly, throwing one fist into the air in victory, and Harry chuckles heartily. “Now come over here, Styles, you owe me something.”  
Smiling, he leans over and presses his lips to mine in a short, dry kiss, and then moves to pull away.  
“Nuh-uh, Curly, not with me.” I protest and wrap my hand around his neck to keep him in place, his pulse thumping rapidly underneath my fingers. “That wasn't a kiss. I want a proper one.” Laughing, Harry leans in for another kiss, our lips slotting together perfectly, tongues brushing, and I sigh into it, into the comforting feeling of his lips between my own.  
A long time later, the bowl of strawberries is empty and laying forgotten by Harry's side. Both our lips are bitten red from kissing so much after Harry cheekily came up with the idea to punish me when I don't catch the berry. Punish me by kissing me. Doesn't make any sense to me, but who am I to object if it means I get more of his lips on me?  
“What’s the...” I gasp, detaching my lips from Harry's with a plopping sound, losing my breath when he runs his large hands from my thighs up to my shoulders, fingers slipping underneath the fabric of my shirt.  
“Hmm?” Harry hums against the skin on my neck, tightening his grip on me, his lips never leaving my skin.  
“The time,” I finally manage to breathe, too lost in him to think straight. “What's the time?”  
“You want to know that now?” Harry groans into my neck and I chuckle at the desperation in his tone before nodding.  
“Can't be late for training,” I explain, and Harry reluctantly lets go of me to fish his phone out of his pocket, which isn't all that easy when you have a Louis Tomlinson straddling you.  
“It's almost three. We need to get going.” Harry sighs and throws his phone onto the blanket next to us, then moves to push me off his lap, but I cling to him and shake my head.  
“You said almost three. We'll leave at three. Which gives us a few more minutes for a kiss or two. Or ten.” I explain, not wanting to go and leave our perfect little bubble just yet, so I haul him in for another kiss and our laughter meets as our lips do.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry runs off to wash his hands as soon as we reach the stadium for training – Harry insisted that he has to come along because it would make him look sloppy not to show up the day after holidays, even if it's just training and it's not required for him to be around – because he discovered some remains of our strawberry fight on his fingers, so I wander through the hallways alone, duffel bag with my training gear slung over my shoulder.

“Louis! You're back!” Tom smiles, just walking around the corner and spotting me, and I smile back at him.  
“Of course I am, told you I'd be here in time for training.”  
“Well, you don't always keep your word do you Tommo?” Tom teases and I can't even be cross with him because he's absolutely right, so I just laugh and shrug nonchalantly.  
“You look good, very well-rested and relaxed. Happy.” Happy. The word causes a pleasant buzz to tingle through my body, and I nod eagerly.  
“I'm all those things, Tommy boy. I had a great time.” That's probably the understatement of the year, I think to myself, but of course I can't tell Tom, so 'a great time' will have to do for now.  
“That's lovely to hear. We've been worried about you lately, with all your partying and stuff, so it's good to see such a change in you. What did you do in South Africa after we left?” Well, that change would be Harry's doing then. Though I'm changing him too, I think, grinning at the memory of Harry grinding against me in the hotel club.  
“Oh, loads of stuff. We went hiking, swimming, we even went to a club once.”  
“We?” Tom wonders, and I freeze for a moment. I got so distracted by the memories of Harry and me that I totally forgot to cover up the fact that we were indeed together 24/7. Oh shit.  
“Uhm, Harry and I.” I admit, and watch with horror as Toms face changes. Raising an eyebrow at me he cocks his head to the side, a knowing look glinting in his eyes.  
“You two get on really well don't you?” Tom queries, eyeing me quizzically, and I panic.  
“He's not too bad I guess. Had to have him around me in case something happens, he's a bit boring but it's okay. What have you been up to lately?” I mumble nonchalantly even though my heart bleeds at the words, trying to convince Tom, when I look up to see a blur of black jeans and brown curls disappearing around the corner.  
Shit. He heard it. Harry heard what I just said. Panic and regret shoot through me, mixing into an intoxicating cocktail that clouds my mind, and I want nothing, absolutely nothing more than to run after him but I can't. If I run after him now, Tom will know. He'll know that we do indeed get on really well, more than that. And he can't know. He's my manager, out of all the people in the world he's the last who is allowed to find out. So I stay, feet frozen on the ground, and try to focus on what Tom is saying though I can't hear a thing through the storm in my head. He heard. He fucking heard me telling Tom that he's boring, nothing special. Oh Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You're so special to me.  
“...so she's great. It was good to see everyone again and,”  
“Sorry, Tom,” I interrupt him in the middle of some story about when he visited the family of his girlfriend, because I just can't take it anymore. I have to talk to Harry. I have to set this straight. I don't even want to imagine what he must be thinking. “I forgot my football shoes in the car, I gotta run back real quick and get them or else I'll be late for training. We need to go out for a beer soon, then you can tell me more about that family meeting alright?” I don't even wait for his response before I turn around and walk away, desperately trying not to run and hoping that Tom can't see my football shoes peeking out of the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. As soon as I turn around the corner of the hallway, I start running. I run like my life depends on it, because somehow, it does.

I find Harry in one of the girl's locker rooms, sitting on a bench with his shoulders slouched, hands folded in his lap, staring at the floor.  
His head snaps up when I enter, his eyes widening as soon as they see me, and when I spot the hurt in them I immediately drop my bag and rush over to him. His eyes snap back down to the ground when I kneel down in front of him, avoiding looking into my own, and my heart sinks.  
“Harry,” I mumble, gently putting my hand on his knee to get his attention. He flinches.  
“Please look at me.” At first, I think he's going to completely ignore me, but then he lifts his head, slowly, curls falling away from his face to reveal a mask of hurt, betrayal and anger that completely takes my breath away. Regret sweeps through me, so strongly that my head begins to spin, and looking at him now, like this, I know that I have to put this right. I don't ever want him to look like this again, not because of me.  
“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean a word of what I said,” I begin to explain, my eyes searching Harry's lovely face, looking for a sliver of a chance, but Harry just snorts and directs his eyes to somewhere over my right shoulder, and a cold shiver runs through me. He can't even look at me. What did I do? Fuck.  
“Harry, I...” I start again, but this time Harry interrupts me.  
“Sure you didn't mean it. Boring old Harry, who reads books and goes to museums and likes cooking. That's me, isn't it? 'Not too bad, but a bit boring.' You just said it Louis, and I get it.” He spits bitterly, huffing, and pushes himself up from the bench, taking several steps away from me. My heart breaks a bit more with every step he puts between us.  
“Harry, no.” I whisper, still kneeling on the ground, my voice broken in horror. “You can't believe that. You can't possibly believe that!”  
“You just said it, Louis! Why should I not believe it!” He roars, his hands balled to fists by his side, eyes now blazing with rage. It's so different from the glimmering light that's usually shining in them.  
“I didn't mean it!” I yell, shooting up from my spot on the ground and taking a step towards him. He steps back. “I didn't mean any of it! Tom asked me about the holidays and I accidentally let slip that we did everything together and then he got suspicious, said that we sure get on really well. He was so close to figuring it out, Harry! He would've known if I hadn't played it cool! I had to pretend like I don't really care about you.”  
“He would've know what, Louis? That we fuck?” Harry growls, and my heart freezes. _We fuck_. No. God, no. _We fuck_. Is that all it is for him? Fucking? No, I can't believe that. I refuse to believe that. You don't buy a bracelet for someone you fuck. _We fuck_.  
“Harry, I...” I start but then close my mouth again, not sure what I'm supposed to say while the ice spreads through my veins, freezing me from within. Harry regards me expectantly, his face twisted in anger and hurt, and I have to swallow harshly to get rid of the lump that has started to form in my throat.  
“Is that all you see in me? Someone you fuck?” I whisper, peeking up at him through my lashes, and finally, finally I see a spark of my Harry coming back. His face softens a fraction, the blazing rage in his eyes calming.  
“No, Louis. I never thought of you that way. But this...what you said...” he trails of, but he doesn't have to finish the sentence for me to understand how much I hurt him. It's right there, on his face, and it's killing me. I nearly sag in relief at his words, because now I know for sure that he feels it too. This isn't just about sex, for both of us. But still, what is it, really?  
“Harry,” I mumble and carefully move to stand in front of him. This time, he doesn't move away, and hope begins to bloom in my chest. “I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean it, at all. I had to say it to protect us, because Tom had a suspicion. He was too close to figure it out for my liking, so I had to pretend like I don't care about you. But I do.” I take a deep breath, knowing full well that I have to go on if I want to get this right. I've never been good at talking about my emotions, but now I have to if I want to convince him. And I do, desperately. “I care about you so much, Harry, you're the most special person I've ever met. You're far from boring.” I sheepishly peek up at him, and thank god, most of the anger has vanished from his face. A trace of hurt still lingers in the crease between his brow and the thin line of his mouth, but he doesn't look as devastated as before. Thank god.  
“I care about you, too, Louis. So much. But...” But? My heart stutters painfully, and panic rises within me as Harry raises one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers, a desperate movement. “This is always going to be standing between us, isn't it? Our jobs. Even when our contract ends. You probably can't come out without major changes to your job, and I... I understand that you don't want to risk it. Not for me. I don't want you to lose everything for me. Well, at least the rational part of me doesn't.” He laughs quietly, but there's no trace of humour in it. There's an air of desperation about him, with the way he runs his hand through his hair, his eyes flickering between the floor and mine, and I stop breathing for a moment as I stand here, frozen, waiting for him to go on even though I have a feeling that what he's about to say will totally ruin me.  
“I'm just wondering where this is going, Louis. There are so many obstacles between us, our contract, your job...I want to be with you Louis, I really do. God, I do. But I'm so sick of hiding, of always having to be careful that nobody knows about us. Where's the sense in this?” he mumbles, and my heart shatters in my chest. Where's _the sense in this_. He doesn't see the sense in us. The sense. No sense.  
“The sense is that we're happy!” I yell, my voice breaking at the last word and he flinches, his features twisting in conflict.  
“But are we, really? Louis, I... I can't do this any longer. I don't want to make you choose between me and your job, both because it would be unfair of me and because I know what you'd pick. So I'm choosing for you.” No. No no no. Horror fills my veins, pumps through my body and nearly makes me crumble to the ground. He's ending things between us.  
“I'd choose you, Harry!” I yell in blind panic, my body longing to throw itself at him to kiss him, to change his mind but I can't move, I am frozen in place by the look on his face. He shakes his head, slowly, the curls that I love so much flying around, and smiles knowingly, a sad, small smile that barely tugs at the corners of his mouth.  
“Would you, Louis? Would you really? Would you go out there, right now, and tell your teammates that you're gay?” Harry queries, and he doesn't even sound mad. He's not angry, I realise with a start. He's given up. He's accepted it, and the realisation stuns me into silence. He waits for a moment, a moment that seems to drag on forever as my brain fights to come up with something to say, something to make him change his mind but it's empty, everything is empty. Where's the sense in this. No sense. How did we get here after I had so much hope for us just this morning? So I stay silent, too stunned by what's just happened, frozen in place, and watch as the last sliver of hope vanishes from his beautiful face  
“Thought so.” he huffs, and then he's gone, out of the room and possibly out of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me, please. At least not yet. There's loads more to come so be patient and trust me, please? 
> 
> All the love,   
> Lily. x


	19. Chapter 19

The motor of my Audi hums smoothly as it rolls through the familiar streets of London, the roads to the stadium long-since engraved in my mind. My hands move automatically on the wheel, turning the car into long roads like they've done so many times. They feel like home, these roads, and even though I should be nervous about the quite big game coming up today I am not. I'm anything but nervous, because there is no space for feelings in my chest. Everything is empty. Has been since Wednesday, since Harry and I, well, had our fight? Broke up? I don't even know for sure what happened, but if he doesn't see the sense in our relationship then I guess that's not a good sign. A small, bitter smile tugs at my lips, tentatively curving the corners of my mouth upwards in the grimace I've worn for the last three days, desperately trying to convince myself and everyone else that everything's fine. Nobody asked me, but I could see the worry in their glances at training on Friday when they took in my appearance. I hadn't left the house all day on Thursday, hadn't shaved, my hair was an uncombed mess, my clothes baggy and worn, but I didn't care. Didn't care about my friend's worrying glances, didn't care about my own appearance, because _where's the sense?_

Harry and I haven't spoken since Wednesday. I haven't heard from him at all, but then I didn't really expect to. What is there to say, after all? I know we'll have to talk at some point, since we're still bound by a work contract and will have to see each other again soon, but right now I think we both just need space. Well, he does, apparently. I don't. I don't need space and I don't want space, I want him. But he made it painfully clear that that's not enough for him, so what can I do?

I was so stupid, so so stupid, I think bitterly, a quiet, sad laughter leaving my lips, breaking the silence in the car. So stupid to think that I could ever be enough for Harry, especially in a situation like ours where I can't be openly committed to him. Because that's what he deserves. Harry deserves someone who can love him openly, in front of everyone. Someone who can hold his hand on the street and kiss him in the supermarket after bickering over cheese and who can tell his friends and family about all his stupid habits while smiling fondly. I want nothing more than for this person to be me, but I can't. I can't give him what he deserves, and it kills me.

By some miracle I make it to the stadium in once piece, without causing an accident, even though my thoughts cannot seem to stay focused on the road. They drift off to him, and I catch myself wondering what he's doing today. If he's as miserable as me. If he misses me as much as I miss him. If he hurts like I do. But then it hits me that he's the one who left, and my heart stutters painfully in my chest at the thought. _No sense._

The thing is, to me, nothing makes sense without him. But for him, nothing makes sense with me. And maybe that's the real problem here.

 

My team-mates greet me with that hesitant look in their eyes that they had during training on Wednesday and Friday as well, this 'let's see how Tommo is feeling today' – look, as if they're afraid I might break.

“Hey mates,” I greet weakly, lifting my hand to vaguely wave at everyone in the dressing room, the grotesque mask that is supposed to be a smile plastered across my face. By the looks on my mate's faces I'm not fooling any of them, but they know better than to ask me what's wrong, so I just accept the greetings that are mumbled at me and change into my jersey, revelling in the way the soft, worn fabric brings at least a bit of warmth back into my chest.

 

About two hours and a few pep talks from our trainer later, the game is in full run, and it's going well for us. Really well. We're leading 2-1, and I'm on my way to Liverpool's goal to basically win the game for us with a 3-1. I'm ruthless on the field today, much to everyone's surprise, but I found that pouring every ounce of anger and confusion and hurt I'm feeling into kicking the ball with full force really helps. I'm unstoppable, with my own whirlwind of emotions inside my chest and the crowd cheering for us, and I'm more than determined to score this goal that will definitely decide this game in our favour and catapult us back onto the first rank in the chart. I'm so close to the penalty box, my eyes set on the goal in front of me.

And then a body appears next to me, some tall-ass defender, running towards me like a maniac to try and stop me. _Hah, you can try all you want, fucker,_ I think darkly and speed up even more, the ball rolling smoothly in front of my feet. The giant gets closer, picking up speed as well, a fearful look on his face. Closer, and closer. I expect him to slow down once he reaches me, but he doesn't. I'm too close to their goal, so dangerously close, and I watch in horror as he realises that too and determination flashes across his face. Then he slams into me, his body hitting mine with full force, and for a moment my much smaller body is sent flying into the air before it hits the ground with a sickening jolt. Then everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

The sky is cloudless. A perfect, cloudless blue, very rare for England but very beautiful. It makes me smile slightly, as I lay here in the grass, and for a moment I wonder if I'm in heaven.

Then the pain hits me, and the perfect blue sky disappears as I squeeze my eyes shut. Pain, so complete, so intense that my entire body shivers. It seems to come from everywhere, from my pounding head and my left shoulder, but mostly from my leg. I try to sit up, try to move, but my body won't obey. I feel odd, like I'm floating, my mind wheeling and spinning, head hazy.

When I open my eyes again, the sky is gone. Instead I see a face, a blurry face that I can't quite identify at first. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, and after a while I'm pretty certain that it's Terry, one of my team-mates, who is leaning over me. I still can't see his face clearly, but something about the shape of his head tells me it must be him. His lips are moving, but no words come out of them. Or maybe I just can't hear them, I don't know. I try to focus on his lips, try to grasp the words but I can't, not with the way my head seems to be wrapped in cotton. Everything is muffled, hazy, but slowly sounds begin to reach my ear.

“Louis? Hey, mate, can you hear me?” Another voice asks, and I look to my left to see Tom standing there, his face set in a worried frown. I open my mouth to speak, to try and tell him not to worry about me old wanker, but the only sound that leaves my mouth is a strangled “Nrrghs” that has Tom chuckling quietly.

“Good to know you're alright, man.” A few laughs can be heard around me, and I manage to lift my head a tiny bit to look around me. The game has been stopped, apparently, since everyone is standing around me, my team-mates surrounding me in a tight circle, the guys from Liverpool a few feet behind them. Craning my neck further and trying to ignore the pounding ache it sends through my skull I spot a couple of paramedics running towards me, carrying a stretcher. They set it down next to me, then eye me in confusion, clearly unsure of how to put me on that damn thing without making my injury worse. They're two young guys and this is probably their first serious injury at a game ever, but I can't deny my growing annoyance at their incompetence.

Finally they decide that one is going to pick me up on my torso while the other will take my legs, and before I can even protest at their incredibly stupid plan someone else saves me.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?” A new voice snaps, a voice that sends a shock through my body that has nothing to do with any injuries. A tall, broad-shouldered man appears next to the useless paramedics, his lovely face set in a frown, and boy he's angry. I've never seen Harry like this, with his eyes blazing as he stares at the paramedics, and if looks could kill they'd be 6ft under by now.

“We, uh...” one of the paramedics starts, voice wavering, and Harry cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head.  
“Shut your face and get out of my way, you're fucking useless.” Gasps are heard all around us and I swallow harshly, completely overwhelmed. I've never heard Harry talk like this, he's always so polite and calm. What's going on? _He's worried about you_ , a small voice whispers inside my head, but I immediately dismiss the thought. No. We're not speaking. This can't be about me, can it? ”Louis? Where does it hurt the most?” Harry asks, his voice much softer, and when I look up I see him kneeling next to me, his face still stormy but his hands so, so gentle where they rest on my shoulders. He's here, I think, and my head nearly explodes at the thought. For some reason, he's here. With me. Somehow, that's enough to snap me out of my haze.

“Right leg. And head,” I manage to mumble, my voice weak as the breeze, and I see him nod curtly, his eyes flickering down to my leg.

“Yeah, your knee doesn't look too good.” Harry admits, an undercurrent of anger so clear in his voice, and something about his tone makes me shiver. I sit up hastily, ignoring the dizzy feeling in my head, and look down at my knee. What I see makes the blood freeze in my veins, because fuck. It's blue, a deep, dark blue surrounded by purple and green, and about three times as big as normal.  
“Shit. _Shit_ , Harry, I won't be able to play, I...” I panic, my voice a high-pitched, broken whisper, and the only thing that keeps me remotely calm is the reassurance of Harry's warm hand on my shoulder.  
“Shh, Louis. You'll be fine. We don't even know what's wrong yet, so lets just get you onto the stretcher and into hospital alright?” Harry's voice is gentle, wrapping around me like silk, and I slowly let it wash away the panic. Focusing on Harry's eyes, I forget everyone and everything around us as the realisation hits me again that he's here. He's here, after all that happened, calming me like nobody else can, worrying about me.

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” I breathe, nodding once, and Harry gives my uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing up straight.

“Okay, Louis, I'll lift you onto the stretcher. I'll try not to move your leg too much, but we somehow have to get you on there, alright?” I nod determinedly, biting my lip, and vaguely notice everyone around us taking a few steps back to give him space. Then Harry's large hands wrap around my torso like they have so many times before, and even through all the pain they don't fail to send a tingling shiver down my spine. He gently lifts me just a few inches off the ground and pulls me to the right, then lowers me down onto the stretcher, and I try not to groan in pain at the movement.  
“Okay?” he questions, giving me a worried glance, and I nod determinately to tell him to carry on. He does, carefully lifting first my uninjured leg, then the injured one onto the stretcher, and I hold my breath to not scream in pain. When it's done, I flop back down onto my back and lift my hand to wipe the thin layer of sweat off my forehead that has gathered there during my effort to stay quiet.

“There we go, Lou. Now lets get you out of here.” Harry whispers, giving my good knee an encouraging squeeze, before smiling at me and standing up straight. Glancing around, he realises that every single person around us is staring, at us, at him, and just like me he seems to have forgotten about the crowd around us during our interaction. I see his cheeks flush a light pink colour before he nods gruffly and turns around to the paramedics.

“Now can you at least carry that fucking thing without dropping him?”

 

 

* * *

 

Harry insists on getting into the ambulance with me. I can hear him arguing with the paramedics, his voice booming through the air, rising even more with anger. I can't heart what he's saying, but the mere fact that he's fighting to be in here with me makes my heart nearly explode with stupid, stupid hope. He still cares about me. He still does, I know that now.

“Yes, thank you.” Harry snaps, his voice now much closer, and a second later his tall frame fills the entrance to the ambulance as he hops in and settles down on a small bench next to me.

“But Mr. Styles, if you touch any of the instruments....” one of the paramedics warns, and Harry shoots him a glance so full of burning anger that I'd shiver if it was directed at me. The paramedic seems to have the same feeling, his face falters and blanches visibly, and he swallows harshly.  
“I get it, I won't touch a fucking thing. Can you please just get him to hospital now?” Harry barks, and I nearly want to laugh at the way the poor guy hastily stumbles out of the vehicle and closes the door behind him.

“You're awfully rude today, Mr. Styles,” I tease weakly, my head slowly beginning to get fuzzy from the painkillers they gave me. Harry has the grace to blush and shrug guiltily, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“Why?” I murmur, my voice so quiet as I wonder what is eating him to make him act like that. _It's you_ , that annoying tiny voice whispers inside my head again, but I dismiss it immediately. It can't be me.

“Because you're hurt, Louis.” he whispers back, and my eyes immediately snap up to meet his. They're bright with compassion and worry, the green burning like molten emerald, and a spark starts igniting inside my chest where frozen numbness lay for three whole days. Hope hope hope slams into me, nearly taking my breath away, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to escape the intensity of his gaze.

“And that stresses you so much? You better calm down, Styles, or those luscious locks of yours will be grey before you're 30.” I joke weakly, unable to really think about what his words mean. He's clearly worried about me, worried enough to completely ignore all his good manners and snap at everyone in his path, yet he claims that he can't do this any longer, that he doesn't see a sense in us. What do I make of this?

Harry chuckles quietly, the deep sound resonating through the small space of the ambulance, and shakes his head at me with a small smile. It fades quickly. “Of course it stresses me, Lou.”

“I didn't think you still cared,” I mumble bitterly, the use of my nickname tugging painfully at my already bruised heart. I don't dare to look at him, but I can hear his sharp intake of breath at my words, can see him flinching out of the corner of my eye but I refuse to feel bad for my words. He's the one with the problem, not me.

“I care, Louis. I care so much. But...”  
“Don't,” I breathe, holding my hands up, begging him to stop. “Don't talk about this, please. Not now, not in here. Not when I'm already freaking out enough about this,” I point to my knee, desperately trying to conceal the panic in my voice but I know I can't fool him. Understanding smooths out the hurt from his features, and once again I'm struck by how beautiful he is, even stressed out and angry. He looks like he didn't sleep any more than I did these last few days, which doesn't make any sense. But the dark circles underneath his eyes match mine, and I refuse to dwell on what that might mean.

“You don't have to freak out Louis, you'll be fine.” Harry assures me, and a disbelieving laugh escapes my lips.

“How do you know that? What if my knee is ruined for good and I won't be able to play anymore? Football is all I have, Harry.” You. You are all I have, is what I really want to say. But I don't have you anymore, do I?

“You won't lose it, Louis. Don't stress yourself, just wait and see what the doctors say, alright?” Harry reasons, and I can't help but think 'but I lost you. I lost you and if I lose footy too then there will be nothing left for me.' I know that Harry can see it, the rising panic in my eyes, and hesitantly, nervously, he lifts one of his hands. He lets it hover over my arm for a moment, his eyes searching for permission in mine, and then he gently sets it down on my arm, his warmth immediately seeping into me.

“Just stay calm, Lou. Please.” I nod weakly and, closing my eyes, I try to focus on the frizzling warmth of his hand rather than the pain in my leg.

“You've got a stubble. Looks good.” Harry admits in a not so subtle change of topic, his hand still resting warmly on my arm, and another piece of tension falls away from me.

“Thought I'd give the unruly caveman look a try,” I joke, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. I can't fool Harry, I know that, and the sad smile he gives me confirms that he knows why I look as rugged as I do. “The last days were shit,” I mumble bitterly, and Harry's hand automatically moves to squeeze my arm gently. Despite my best knowledge, I let it comfort me.  
“Yes, they were.” Harry agrees, his voice warm and oh so deep, resonating through the small space between us until it settles in a spot deep within my chest. We don't say anything else for the rest of the ride, but Harry's hand on my arm and the tentative smiles on our faces are enough. It's enough for now.

 

* * *

 

 

About an hour and a half later my head is spinning again, full painkillers and information about how to deal with my injury. It's not as bad as I thought it would be, but I'll still have to rest for at least a month before I can play again, which means I'll only be back for the last two, maybe three games of the season. It sucks, massively, but it's better than the alternative so I try not to be too pissed off by it.

I'm brought into a bright, overly-lit and sterile hospital room, dressed in one of these horrible white paper gowns. My knee is thickly bandaged and so is my shoulder, but thanks to the medicine I'm not in pain. I'm very sleepy, though, and fairly out of it, so I gladly sink into the surprisingly soft pillows that the nurse stacks on my bed.

“You've got visitors, Mr. Tomlinson. Shall I send them in?” The young girl asks, eyeing me with wide, longing eyes, and I smile apologetically back at her. Sorry, girl, you're pretty but you've got no chance. A while ago you would've had one, but not anymore.

“Yes, please.” I mumble instead, and wonder who might be visiting. Is Harry still here? I haven't seen him since I was taken away for examination, but he wouldn't just leave like that would he? My footie mates won't be here either, not yet. So who can it be?

Voices sound from the hallway in front of my door, one male and one female, and I know both very well. Harry walks through the door first, all long legs and skin-tight jeans and a plain black t-shirt that hugs his shoulders in a way that should be forbidden. And behind him...

“Mum! What are you doing here?” I gasp, trying to sit up but flinching at the pain from my leg so I immediately flop back down.  
“Oh, Louis, you silly idiot. Don't sit up!” she immediately scolds me and hurries over to my bed. “How are you feeling, baby?” she mumbles, sitting down at the edge of my bed and leaning over me to kiss my cheek. I blush, knowing full well that Harry is watching my Mum fussing over me like I'm a small boy, but when I look up he just smiles down at us, a warm, genuine smile, and I even manage to send him a matching one back.  
“I'm good Mum. Full of painkillers though. How are you even here already? It takes hours to drive down here from Donny, and unless I'm completely out of it all this happened only a little more than two hours ago.”

“Dan bought us tickets to see you play today, that's why we were in London already. We were supposed to come over after the game to surprise you. So, uhm, surprise?” My Mum laughs with such enthusiasm that I can't help but join her, and even Harry chuckles quietly from the chair in the corner that he's sitting in.

“So jokes aside, Louis, don't ever do that to me again! Seeing you getting hurt like that...What happened? What did the doctors say?” Mum cries, her small hand weakly hitting my chest and I move to catch it with my own.

“I'll have to take a break for at least a month. It's not as bad as it looks, I've got a slight concussion and a bruised shoulder, and my knee got a bit distorted but I was very very lucky.” I explain calmly, sending Harry a small, relieved smile which he returns with a private, pleased smile of his own that makes my heart beat just a tiny bit faster.

“Oh, thank god, Louis. I was so worried.” Mum whispers, squeezing my hand, and I gently squeeze back to reassure her that I'm fine.  
“You know me, Mum, I'm always up for some drama. Got that from you.” I joke, proud of myself when I hear her laughing quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I see Harry standing up and stretching, his t-shirt riding up on his stomach to expose a stripe of creamy, smooth skin that makes my mouth go dry. I catch my Mum's knowing glance and send her a glowering one back, daring her to make some kind of comment. Luckily she doesn't.  
“I'll give you two some space, I'm sure you've got a lot to talk about. I've got some calls to make anyway, let everyone know what's going on with you. I told Tom I'd call him as soon as we have news.” Harry announces, and a part of me wants to scream at him to stay, too afraid that he'll put his walls back up or leave. But I can't, not in front of my Mum, so I just nod weakly and watch him slip out of the door.

 

“Oh Louis,” Mum sighs, a broad smile on her face as she teasingly shakes her head at me, and I raise my eyebrows at her, confused.

“What?”  
“Harry! He's wonderful! So nice and lovely, and a looker too! My god, that face.” Mum announces, excitedly clapping her hands like the little girl that she still is sometimes, and I can't help but giggle at her.

“He is, isn't he,” I mumble, sadness suddenly overwhelming me. He truly is wonderful. And I possibly lost him.

“Lou, what's wrong?” Of course Mum immediately picks up on my mood, she knows me too well. I'm her oldest child, and sometimes I'm more like a friend to her than a son. We went through a lot together, and we know each other inside and out. There's no chance for me to hide my feelings from her.

“We... we're not speaking at the moment.” I admit, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed of the entire situation, my hands automatically fidgeting nervously in front of my chest. My Mum immediately notices the old habit, a sure sign that I'm uncomfortable, and gently takes my hands in hers.

“Tell me everything, please.” And with my Mum's open, honest eyes staring into my own full of worry, those same eyes that I have inherited from her, I do. I tell her everything, about Harry not wanting to hide and me being terrified of coming out, about our struggles and hopes, and after I've finished she's silent for the longest time.  
“Lou, I can see where Harry is coming from. But this talk is futile because you can't make your relationship official anyway until your contract has run out. And the contract is not your fault, neither is it his. Talk to him, Lou. I'm sure you'll be able to work things out with him. You should have seen him earlier, when you were away for examination. Couldn't sit still for a second. I think he was more worried than I was. Nearly died of relief when the nurse came in to tell us that we could see you.” An image hits me with full force, Harry in the waiting room, his long body folded into a plastic chair that nearly disappears under his broad frame, long fingers fidgeting nervously, a frown on his face. Something warm spreads through my chest at the image, seeping into my veins and making me burn from within.  
“He snapped at everyone at the stadium, too, especially at the paramedics.” I explain, smiling fondly at the memory of Harry giving everyone shit. Was it really because he was so worried about me?  
“He probably aged at least 10 years today.” My Mum laughs, and after a short hesitation I join her. It's the first genuine laugh in three days, fuelled by my Mum's words still resonating through my head. So he really was worried about me. Fucking hell.

“Whatever is going on between you two at the moment, don't ever doubt that he cares about you, Lou. Because he does. He cares like crazy.” Mum whispers, running one of her hands over my stubbly cheek, and suddenly it doesn't even seem all that hard anymore. He cares. I care. Somehow, together, we'll find a way. We have to.

A knock at the door snaps me out of my reverie, and Mum and I turn to see the door opening slowly.

“Sorry to interrupt, but,” Harry pops his curly head into the room, an apologetic smile on his face, “they're serving dinner now. Someone will be here any moment to bring you food, Lou.”

“I'll give you two love-birds some space, then,” my Mum announces, sending me a not so subtle wink that nearly makes me groan out loud at how embarrassing she is, and with one last kiss to my cheek she stands up. “I'll pop back in tomorrow, Dan and I are staying in London for tonight. Take care of my boy, Harry, please.” And with that she's gone, the door falling shut behind us, wrapping us in momentary silence.

“You told your Mum about us?” Harry wonders while I shove something that vaguely looks like chicken soup but smells and tastes like nothing into my mouth, a surprised look on his face.

“Of course I did, Harry. Why wouldn't I?” I pause momentarily, a spoonful of soup hovering in front of my face as a pleased expression settles on his face, his eyes softening into my favourite molten emerald look.

Harry just shrugs, seemingly uninterested, but I see the smile of pure happiness he tries to hide in his shoulder, and it makes me smile in return, so big that my cheeks start aching. Maybe all is not lost yet.

A nurse comes in to clear my plates and give me an entire cup full of medicine, which I take with a grimace that makes Harry giggle behind the nurses back. She explains something about how the painkillers will make me sleepy so I can get some rest, and I nod along to her explanations until she fixes Harry with a pointed look. Panic rises within me, and my eyes that have started to fall shut snap wide open again, suddenly wide awake.  
“You're not leaving, are you?” I whisper urgently, my heart freezing at the idea of being alone in this room. I want Harry here with me. I need him here with me. He's the best medicine.

“Not if I don't have to,” Harry replies calmly and sends the nurse a questioning smile.

“There's no guest bed in here though, you'll have to spend the night in this chair,” she explains, clearly thinking this will put Harry off staying but he just shrugs.

“I don't care. I'd sleep on the floor if I have to.” My heart nearly explodes at his words, and the sincere look he gives the nurse finally convinces her to let him stay. After checking my bandages one last time she finally leaves the room and turns the lights off. I can still see Harry in the lights of some instruments from across the room, can see the way he tries to fold his long body into the small chair, and I know I can't let him spend the night in that chair. I just can't.

I raise my head sleepily to look at him, at his profile in the dim blue light of the room. He's here. After all that happened he's here with me, in the hospital, staying the night. _He cares like crazy_. Yes, maybe he does, I think to myself, and the thought puts a broad grin on my face. I do too, Harry.

“You know you're not really going to spend the night in that chair right?” I mumble into the darkness and see Harry's head snap up from where he's been staring at the big lump that is my knee.

“There's nowhere else to go in here, Lou, and I'm not taking the floor.” Harry's deep voice cuts through the silence, the deep baritone blending smoothly with the darkness surrounding us.  
“There is a bed in here though.” I argue, nervously waiting for his reaction, and I see his eyes widen in surprise.

“Louis, I can't sleep in that bed with you. You're injured, I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't hurt me. Just sleep on my left side. Please?” I beg, my eyes growing heavier by the second and I know that if I can't convince him any time soon I'll all asleep before he agrees. Damn those painkillers.

“Lou, I don't know...” the indecision is clear in his voice, but he doesn't straight out say no. I can hear the want in his tone, so I know that he craves this contact between us as much as I do. I just need it tonight, after those past few horrible days without him and the events of today I need his reassuring warmth next to me.

“You know I sleep better when you're with me, and we never move much in our sleep.” Another flash of indecision passes over his face, and I carefully lift my hand to gently put it on his arm. “Please, Harry.”

A gush of air leaves his lips as he exhales deeply, his shoulders slumping, and then, finally, he nods. “Okay. But you need to tell me as soon as you get uncomfortable, then I'm back in the chair, okay?”

I can't do anything but nod happily as he toes off his shoes and slips into bed next to me, his body immediately warming the cold covers. He gingerly curls up next to me and rests his arm across my stomach, his breath hot against my neck.  
“This okay?” he questions quietly and I nod, humming my assent, my lids already too heavy to keep them open. I sigh happily when I feel his lips pressing a soft kiss to my temple, the medicine pulling me deeper into a soothing blackness, but just before I'm completely out it hits me that maybe, we're kind of inevitable. Even if Harry doesn't want it to be true. On Wednesday he told me that he can't do it anymore, yet he's here now, sleeping next to me in my hospital bed, worrying his pretty little head off about me. Maybe there is hope, after all.

“It doesn't just go away like that Harry,” I manage to mumble into the darkness, my words slurred so I don't even know if he understood me, but after a moment his deep voice hums into my ear.

“What doesn’t just go away?”

“Us.”

“What?” He's completely confused now, shifting so he's hovering over me to look down at me, trying to make sense of the mazy words my cloudy brain comes up with, but I'm too tired to keep my eyes open so I just cuddle closer to him, blissfully content.

“You can deny it all you want, Styles, but it's there. Inevitable.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 already, I can't believe it. I suppose this baby will have 30-something chapters depending on how the things I have planned turn out in a written way, so be prepared for more exciting stuff to come.   
> Hope you all had a good day, happy reading x

I wake up in a cold and empty bed. Confused, I sit up hastily, my sleepy brain certain that I didn't fall asleep alone last night, so where the hell is Harry? A sharp pain shoots through my leg at the sudden movement and I groan, my body falling back into the cushions.

A small chuckle sounds from the chair next to my bed and I sit up again, this time more carefully.

“Mum?” And sure enough, my Mum is sitting there, looking comfy in a pair of jeans and a sweater that's much too large on her – I suspect it's Dan’s. Rubbing my eyes I try to figure out if I'm just hallucinating but nope, she's still there, mouth stretched into an amused grin.

“Good morning sunshine. Before you ask, I sent Harry downstairs to the canteen to get some breakfast, the poor lad was starving. Took me a ridiculously long time to get him to leave you, bless him. Now how are you feeling?”

“Wait, Mum, what? You – Harry, I mean...” I stutter, my heart fluttering because Harry was reluctant to leave me but my mind spinning at 80 miles an hour. “You were here when Harry was still in bed with me?” I gasp, and my Mum nods, a sly, wicked smile taking over her face. Groaning, I flop back down into the pillows, my hands rising to cover my face. I'm absolutely mortified. Sure, Harry and I weren't doing anything PG rated, but still. My Mum caught me in bed with my...whatever Harry is. In hospital. Jeez.

Laughing, my Mum rises from her chair and leans down to pry my hands away from my face so she can press a quick kiss to my cheek.

“Don't be embarrassed, Lou. You're not exactly a saint, and I've washed your sex-stained sheets for longer than I would've liked. Besides, I'd rather see you in bed with him, someone you care about who obviously cares about you in return, than one of your usual random girls you pick up at parties.” I groan again, praying that some nurse comes into the room soon to end what has to be the most mortifying moment of my life ever, but the door stays closed. Then a thought comes to my mind, and I find myself giggling despite the situation.

“What did Harry say when he saw you?”

“Nearly fell out of bed at the attempt to put some distance between you two, the poor thing. He was probably more embarrassed than you are. Stammered some excuses, but you know me. Told him you're old enough, told him I was fine with it, then told him to get some breakfast because he looked starved.” Mum explains, smiling fondly, and I chuckle at the image of Harry scrambling out of bed, long limbs flying everywhere, curls a mess.

“Ever the mother-hen, aren't you?” I mumble, beyond relieved to have such an uncomplicated and loving Mum by my side.   
“Always,” she agrees with a wink, a broad smile on her face that looks almost painful.   
“What?” I wonder, because why on earth is she grinning like that? “Mum, what the hell? Is your face frozen like this, cause it looks kind of scary.” Shaking her head, she smiles down at me, her hand coming to rest on top of mine, squeezing gently.  
“I'm just happy for you, Lou. Harry is wonderful. I talked to him for a while this morning, and yesterday too, and he's incredible. Very polite and smart and warm and caring. He's totally smitten with you.” Mum explains, and the wave of emotions whirls around in my chest like a tornado, making my entire body tingle. _He's totally smitten with you_.

“I'm pretty smitten with him, too,” I admit quietly, feeling my cheeks heat as I stare out of the room's small window.

“That's quite obvious, love,” my Mum states, an amused sparkle in her eyes but her face is glowing with warmth, with so much happiness for me that I have to swallow thickly.

“I'm scared I'll lose him.” Voicing my deepest fear, I carefully, hesitantly direct my gaze back towards my Mum, taking in her reaction.

“Oh, Lou, no. Work for it. Fight for it, for him. Tell him how you feel. If you don't talk about it, how is he supposed to know?”

“Tell him what, though? What can I tell him to make him stay?” I mumble, my eyes fixed on a spot somewhere over my Mum's left shoulder.

“That you love him, silly!” My Mum explains, like it's the easiest thing in the world, but it shakes me down to the core. Love him? _Love_?  
“What? No, Mum, I... I don't...” I stutter, my heart pounding so fast in my chest that I almost feel dizzy with it.

Then the door is pushed open, and a young nurse dressed entirely in white pushes a trolley inside, exclaiming, “Your breakfast, Mr. Tomlinson,” with a bright smile. Groaning inwardly I hide my head inside my hands, noticing only now that they're shaking. _Bad timing, nurse, really bad timing,_ I think darkly. _I needed you earlier, not now._

Mum watches her with a tight smile, obviously as upset about the interruption as I am, but there is nothing we can to. She sets up the trolley in front of my bed and, after asking if I need anything else, exits. We're alone again, but somehow the moment is gone. Somehow, I can't talk about it anymore, even though the word 'love' flashes through my mind like a mantra, pumping through my veins and making my head spin.

Luckily, Mum seems to understand that I can't talk anymore, so she just wordlessly hands me a bowl of fruit salad and cracks a small smile when she sees my disgusted face. I'm so famished that I don't even object, my hands moving mechanically, shoving fruits after fruits in my mouth until the silence in the room gets too heavy.

“This tastes like shit,” I exclaim, my voice ringing loudly in the tense silence, and slam the bowl back down on the trolley with trembling hands.

“Good to know, because I come bearing treats from the canteen.” A new voice laughs from the doorway, and my entire body stills. Looking up, I see Harry leaning against the door-frame, still dressed in the same jeans and shirt from yesterday, both crinkled and rumpled but he looks so heart-stoppingly soft and beautiful that my entire body aches.

“Harry,” I breathe, my dizzy brain unable to come up with anything else and I briefly wonder if they put any medicine in that fruit salad, but really, the sight of a sleepy, dishevelled Harry is much more intoxicating than any medicine or alcohol could ever be. Shooting me a shy, boyish grin that makes him look painfully young he crosses the room and plops down on the corner of my bed while my eyes greedily follow his every move. He sends my Mum a conspiratorial grin before pulling his hands away from behind his back, revealing two chocolate muffins in them.

“Muffins!” I yell with an excitement that matches that of a child on Christmas, and Harry hands them over to me with a soft chuckle.

“I saw what they brought the other patients when I went down to the cafeteria, and I know that despite my best attempts at making you eat healthily, we have not quite reached the level of fruit salad yet,” Harry jokes, winking at me, and my heart nearly stops beating for a moment. That is, until my teeth greedily sink into the soft dough of the muffin and I'm catapulted to heaven. Food heaven.

“You'll never manage that, Harry. He's refused to eat anything but apples all his life, and even they were always a tough fight.” Mum laughs, sending me a playfully scolding smile that I blissfully ignore.   
“I'm sure we'll get there, Jay,” Harry states confidently, and I choke on a piece of muffin that sends me into a violent coughing fit. He's on first name basis with my Mum already? Jesus Christ. And _we'll get there_ , really? Does that mean that I dare to hope?

“You okay, Louis?” Mum asks innocently, grinning wryly at me with a knowing glint in her eyes while Harry actually looks concerned, his brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fine. Peachy even,” I manage to spit out as soon as I can breathe again, my mind cloudy with all those possibilities and hopes and fears and _love_ so I eat the rest of my Muffin in silence while Mum and Harry chat away, ignoring Harry's concerned glances.

At around ten, a doctor comes in to ask me how I'm feeling, and after some more examination he gives me some info about how to deal with my knee and reminds me to take a 4 week break, then declares me good to go.

“Well, that's perfect timing actually, because Dan wants to head back to Doncaster before the big traffic starts.” Mum smiles happily, clapping her hands like a pleased little girl and I barely manage not to roll my eyes at her.

“You'll get him home, won't you?” she asks, turning to look at Harry, and somehow I know that she's not referring to his bodyguard duties.

“Of course,” Harry nods without hesitation, a barely visible blush coating his cheeks.

“Good.” Mum nods, clearly pleased, and several kisses on whatever part of my face she can reach and tons of motherly lectures later she finally leaves.

“It was so good to meet you, Harry. Take care of my boy.” I watch as she hugs Harry tightly, her small body nearly disappearing in his embrace, and something warm and fuzzy spreads through my chest at the sight of them. So my Mum approves of him. Heartily. The thought makes me smile.  
“You, too, Jay. Get home safely. And I will.” Harry promises, voice serious, and my heart nearly bursts at the sincerity in his voice. With one last wink in my direction my Mum leaves, the door gently falling shut behind her.

“Home?” Harry mumbles quietly, turning back to face me as soon as my Mum is gone.

“Yes, please.” I smile weakly, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous around him. This has already been one of the longest days of my life, and it's not even noon yet. Well, cheers.

 

*

 

Walking with crutches is not as easy as I always thought it would be, I painfully realise that when I try to walk up the steps to my front door. I'd been fine in the hospital, because it's obviously made for people in wheelchairs or on crutches. But stairs? Yikes.

So what do I do now? Do I leave my crutches on the ground and push myself up? Or do the crutches go onto the first step? While my brain still struggles to come up with the most logical solution my body decides to proceed on its own and somehow pushes itself up the first step, only for me to lose my balance right away. My body bends backwards, falling, and for a split second I can already see myself crashing to the ground at full force – but then a warm hand settles between my shoulder blades and pushes me back into an upright position, an arm snaking around my waist to keep me steady.

“Whoa, careful Lou.” Harry yells, and I can feel a deep blush starting to creep up my neck. Of course, of fucking course I have to go ahead and make a total tit of myself in front of Harry. Well done, Tommo. Cheers.

“I, uh, I think I need to practice that a bit more.” I breathe, my voice high in embarrassment, and Harry's low chuckle vibrates through the air behind me, making the hair on my neck stand up. He's so close to me, standing right behind me with his hand on my back and his arm around my waist and it's _burning_ , the feeling of his body against mine.

“Yeah, I'd say so too.” Harry teases wryly, and with him hovering behind me in case I fall again I make it up the few stairs and into my house. Inside, an even bigger challenge awaits.  
“Ugh,” I groan out loud, letting my body rest against the wall in the hallway. “Fuck, I need a shower. I have to get upstairs. This is going to be fun.”

“I could carry you?” Harry offers, dropping my duffel bag he was carrying on the sofa.

“No, Harry, I need to learn how do walk up the steps with my crutches. You can't always carry me around in my own house, I'm not that much of a loser.” I snap, his words somehow hitting a nerve. _It's not like you're going to be here to carry me all the time is it_ , I think bitterly, and with a determined huff I pick up my crutches and push myself up the stairs. I make it without stumbling, but Harry is hot on my heels, hands stretched out behind me to catch me should I fall. I expect him to stop following me as soon as the stairs are done, but to my surprise, he follows me all the way into the bathroom.

“Harry, you don't have to follow me around like a lost puppy. I'm fine.” I hiss, spinning around to face him. I don't know why I'm suddenly so angry at him. Just last night I basically begged him to stay, and now I'm being a moody bitch. I know it, but I can't help it. _It's because you know it can't stay like this, isn't it? Because he doesn't see the sense in being with you and is only here because you're injured_?, a small but nasty voice inside my brain mumbles and I quickly shove it aside, annoyed with myself.

“I'm just here to make sure you won't fall over in the shower.” Harry explains, eyeing me with wide eyes, hands raised, clearly alarmed by my outburst. A part of me wants to melt at his words, but somehow the worry in his eyes spikes my anger even more.

“Why do you even care Harry? I thought there's no sense in this.” I spit, immediately regretting the harsh words when I see Harry flinch, hurt darkening his eyes.

“Louis, I... Just because I had a moment of doubt doesn't mean that I don't care about you anymore or that I want to see you hurt.” He explains, and a painful current runs through my heart. _Moment of doubt_. He had a moment of doubt. A part of me wants to curl up in a corner and weep in relief that he still cares, but the other part of me is gripped by ice cold fear. He cares now, yes, but what if he has more moments of doubt? What if the doubt eventually takes over? My anger evaporates as quickly as it came, replaced by a numbing tiredness.   
“I know, Harry, I'm sorry. I'm just moody, don't mind me. I'm tired, dizzy from all the painkillers and in desperate need of a shower. The fact that I have no clue where we stand right now doesn't really help.” I admit, giving Harry a sad little smile when I see regret clouding his eyes.  
“Lou...” he starts, but I stop him with a sharp shake of my head.   
“Not now, please. I just want to shower and have something to eat, preferably something filthy and disgustingly unhealthy. Thank you for helping me out, I really appreciate it.”   
“Okay, I'll give you some space. I... I'll be downstairs, please call me when you need anything. I'll make you something to eat, okay?” And I want to fight it, I really do, want to tell him to go home and leave me alone since that's apparently what he wants, but the thing is that his words and actions no longer match. He says he wants space, yet here he is, offering to cook me food with this hopeful look in his eyes and it would feel like kicking a puppy if I said no to him now. I just can't.

“Okay, yeah, thanks. Though I don't think 'disgustingly unhealthy' is in your repertoire?” I joke with a bittersweet smile, bittersweet because it shouldn't be this easy to fall back into our usual banter. It would be better to keep my distance, for his sake and also for mine, but how could I when the most beautiful, relieved smile spreads across his face and lights up his eyes?

“I'll figure something out, don't worry.” Harry promises with a wink, and then he leaves the bathroom, casting one last worried glance in my direction.

*

About twenty minutes later I emerge from the bathroom dressed in loose sweatpants and a tanktop, and I even make it downstairs without falling and dying. I find Harry in the kitchen, setting the table, and when I get closer I spot a large bowl of Mac'N'Cheese sitting in the middle of the table.

“Mac'N'Cheese? Harry Styles, I'm shocked.” I exclaim in delight and Harry blushes sweetly.   
“We all have our dark secrets don't we?”  
We devour our plates quickly, and I stop Harry when he wants to get up to wash the dishes.  
“Let me do that. You should go home and shower, I've kept you by my side all day, I'm sorry.”  
“I'm not going home, Louis.” Harry objects calmly, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and I'm stuck. He's not going home? What?   
“But...” I start, but Harry stops me by shaking his head and leaning closer towards me, earnest eyes staring into mine.

“I promised a lot of people that I'll take care of you. Your Mum, Tom, your teammates. Myself, too. I'm not leaving you alone when you can barely walk, Louis. No discussion here.” And there's a hardness in his eyes, a vehemence that tells me that resistance is futile. Harry Styles has clearly made up his mind. Who am I to try and stop him?   
“You still need to shower, though.”

“Is that your way of saying that I smell?” Harry grins, only a hint of seriousness remaining in the depth of his green orbs. Laughing, I shake my head at him.

“Never. This is my way of saying that you've been wearing that stuff since yesterday morning, and I know you're a cleaning freak.”

“That,” Harry gasps, his grin widening, “is not true.” he insists, wiggling his index finger at me.

“It is though.” I disagree, regarding him expectantly, waiting for him to admit it. He caves easily.

“Ugh, fine, maybe a little bit. I suppose I could go back home, shower, and pack some clothes, if that's okay with you?”   
I agree easily, the thought of spending the next days with Harry by my side exciting me as much as it terrifies me. Shouldn't we be kind of broken up? Yet here we are, joking around like everything is okay. I don't know if it's healthy for me to be around him so much, I don't want to grow too attached in case he has another 'moment of doubt'. But I'm weak and foolish and already way too gone for him, so I know I won't be strong enough to resist him.

While Harry is gone, I busy myself with washing the dishes, which takes a while when you can't easily hop around in the kitchen, and then I plop down on the sofa, deciding to watch a movie. The opening credits to 'Love Actually' start playing, the last movie I watched in here when my Mum and oldest sister stayed over a while back. It's a bit embarrassing but I quite like the movie, and I'm too lazy to get up and change the DVD so I just snuggle into the cushions and watch people fall in love. Love, there it is again. How can four letters be so, so complicated? Do I love Harry? No, I'm pretty sure I don't. I can't. I've never been in love. This is...this is just a temporary obsession, a moment of weakness because Harry is exciting and new. Nothing more. I almost have myself convinced of that when the front door opens and Harry steps inside, a duffel slung over his back, dark grey sweatpants hugging his endless legs, a simple black tee covering his torso, clinging to his abs and shoulders. His curls are still damp from the shower, little tight ringlets curling on top of his shoulders, his cheeks flushed, and if my heart jumps painfully in my chest at the sight of him, well, nobody needs to know.

“Love Actually, hm?” he teases, nudging my shoulder with his as he plops down on the sofa next to me.

“It was still in my DVD player from when my Mum was here a while ago,” I quickly defend myself, but there's a knowing glint in Harry's eyes that tells me I don't fool him for a second. Damn him.

“It's actually one of my favourite movies, too,” Harry admits, and I bury my face in a pillow to muffle my groan. Because of course, of fucking course Harry Styles loves Love Actually. Of course. Because he's just so damn lovely. He deserves a love like in the movies, I think weakly. He deserves to be loved endlessly, and I don't know if I can.

Instead of voicing my fears I push myself up off the sofa and head towards the kitchen to make some popcorn. Returning with a bowl I see Harry's face light up, making me laugh.

“Does someone have a weakness for microwave popcorn, hm?” I tease, placing the bowl between us, giggling as Harry shoves a large handful of it into his mouth.

“Who doesn't?” he states truthfully, eyes set on the TV. And so we sit there, watching people fall in love and out of it with about a foot of space between us that kills me, but I don't dare close the gap.

 

*

We're both tired from our not very restful night at the hospital, so we decide to head to bed early. Harry has brought his stuff into one of my guest rooms, and even though it hurt a bit I know it's for the best. He helps me get ready for bed, though, carefully pulling my sweatpants over my swollen and bandaged knee so I'm left in just my boxers, then tucks me in and sits down on the edge of my bed, just inches away from me. He hands me a glass of water and a cup full of pills, painkillers and antibiotics and other shit for my knee that I'm sure doesn't do anything but cost money. But, seeing Harry's warning glance, I swallow them all dutifully, then finish the glass of water and hand it back to him.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Harry asks, setting the glass down on my bedside table, then turning back to me, his eyes roaming my face, looking for any signs that I might be in pain.

“I'm okay I guess. My knee smarts a bit, but my head is fine so that's a bonus. Concussion seems to be gone.”

“Smarts a bit, hm?” Harry raises his eyebrows at my obvious understatement, but I decide to play it cool. I've never been one to admit that I'm not feeling well, so why start now?  
“That's what happens when you get run over by a tall-ass defender, you know?” I joke, trying to make light of the situation, but somehow it has the opposing effect. Harry's face falls, his brows furrowing, lips set in a straight line, fear and anger sparking in his eyes.

“I was so scared,” Harry's whispered admittance breaks the silence between us, his voice smoothing over my skin, raising goosebumps. “When I saw you fall....and you didn't get up...” I feel Harry's body shudder and the need to comfort him, to erase the sorrow from his eyes becomes overwhelming. Ignoring the stinging pain from my leg I twist my body so I'm facing him and, tentatively, shaking hands cup his face, fingers feather-light on his warm skin.

“Hey. I'm okay, don't worry about me. I won't be able to play for a few weeks,” - I can't help the grimace on my face, the thought of not being able to play terrifies me. Because if I don't have footie, what the hell am I supposed to do with my life? - “but other than that, I will be alright.”   
“Yeah,” Harry breathes, intense green eyes meeting my own, “thank God you'll be alright.”

“Besides,” I joke, trying to lighten the thick tension that has settled between us, “ill weeds grow apace, don't they?”

Harry chuckles, his cheek carving into a dimple beneath my fingers, but the intensity never leaves his gaze. He stares at me, endlessly, barely blinking with his gaze never wavering, and I can do nothing but stare back at him, transfixed. When he moves, it's so slow, so languid that I barely notice his proximity, until his eyes gaze into mine for the last time before fluttering shut as soon as his lips touch mine. It sends a jolt of electricity through me, the feverish press of his mouth on mine, lips slotting together and sliding wetly, tongues entwined in a heavy dance. Desperately, I press closer to him, my body craving more contact after being away from him for three whole days. I feel like a parched man, and Harry is an oasis in the middle of the eternal desert that my life has become ever since he walked out on me. Almost without my consent my arms snake around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to me, fingers tangling in the smooth curls at the back of his head, tugging gently. Gasping, Harry's hands find my waist, large palms splayed out across the bare skin covering my stomach, burning against my cool skin, making me moan.

“Louis...no,” Harry gasps, detaching his lips from mine with a plopping sound. “I know where this is going, and we can't.”   
“But...” I pout, eyes fixed on Harry’s plump wet lips, bitten red and swollen.   
“No but, Louis. You're injured.”

“But I need you, Harry. Please,” I beg, want and longing pumping through my veins so strongly that I almost feel dizzy from it. I don't think about the fact that Harry doesn't see the sense in us, I don't think about the way he looked when he left or that he hasn't contacted me for three days. All I think about is the burning pressure of his hands still on my waist, thumbs pressing deliciously into my skin, and the intense need for him that's clouding my mind. “You're the best medicine, Harry. Please?”  
He looks torn, his own longing and his intense sense of responsibility battling behind his eyes, and I can sense that the responsibility is starting to win when he shakes his head, slowly, deliberately, lip bitten into his mouth. Well, shit.

“Can you at least suck me off then?" The indecision is back on his face, clear as day, and I sense that this is my chance. “I promise I won't move, just...please?” I assure him eagerly, needing him to take care of me, needing to take this chance because God knows when I'll get to be around him like that again? Maybe he's just here because I'm hurt and he feels bad, and after I've recovered he'll go back to staying away from me. The thought makes me feel physically sick, and I quickly push it aside. Letting my hands travel across his face, over his cheeks down to his jaw, I give him my best pleading look, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “Please, Harry. I need you. Please.”  
“Fuck! Okay, Louis. Fine. But as soon as I feel like you're in pain, we're stopping!” Harry finally gives in, exasperated, and I chuckle in victory. If I could, I'd do backflips now. Not that I can do backflips even without an injured leg, but psst.

Before I know it, Harry pulls me to the edge of the bed and scrambles around the room to get the chair that's standing next to my dresser. He places it in front of the bed so I can rest my injured knee on it, then kneels between my legs.   
“Okay?” He whispers, worried eyes searching for answers in mine. I nod eagerly, ignoring the slight stretch in my leg because I know that as soon as his mouth is on me I'll forget about everything else anyway. And God, I am right.

“Shit, Harry,” I moan, my hips automatically stuttering to meet his mouth. Immediately, large hands are pressing my hips back down onto the bed, Harry frowning up at me.

“Don't move,” he commands, and I gasp in pleasure as the wet heat of his mouth is back around me. Hmm, bossy Harry. I like bossy Harry.

But shit, he's good with his mouth. Swirling his tongue around, sucking, and just the sight of him in front of me – neck flushed, glossy eyes wide, those damn pink lips stretched around my cock - could be enough to send me over the edge.

“Harry, I...” I groan, my hips desperate to snap up to meet his mouth but he's pinning me down, and it's so hot, so fucking hot that I know I won't last long. I feel the now familiar burn in my body, feel the wave start rolling towards the shore, and with a last expert flick of his tongue it crashes into me, hot pleasure surging through me, erasing all my pain for a long, blissful moment.

“Jesus Christ, that was good.” I exhale deeply and run my hand through his hair, slowly coming back down to earth. Harry smiles up at me, a shy, reserved smile, and regards me critically.

“Are you okay?”

“Harry, I'm perfect. Thank you. An orgasm really is the best painkiller.”

“Good. Now go to bed, you look tired.” Harry demands, ever so bossy, standing up and starting to push me back onto the bed but this time I refuse to cooperate.

“No. Not yet. There's something else I have to take care of.” I explain, grinning widely at his confused face. Smirking, I loop my fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats and pull him closer to me until his hips are right in front of my face, the perfect hight. Still smiling, I nuzzle his still clothed erection, and Harry stills.

“No. Louis, no way. You're not going to suck me off in return, you're going to hurt yourself.”  
“Fuck my mouth then. Promise I won't move.” I whisper, blinking up at him, one of my hands languidly palming him through his jeans. “I'm all yours to use. Completely at your mercy.” I add darkly, just for good measure, and the shiver that runs through his body tells me everything I need to know.

“F-fuck Lou.” Harry pants as I pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion. He steps out of them quickly and throws them over the back of the nearby chair, then, after a moment of hesitation, he shrugs his shirt off as well so he's gloriously naked in front of me. My mouth waters at the sight of him, and I can't wait to have him in my mouth so I gently grab him and push him between my lips before he can change his mind.  
“Shit....shit, Louis, you have to...” he breathes, words getting lost in a low moan as he begins to move in and out of my mouth, “you need to tell me....tell me when it hurts.” Annoyed, I hum around his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver through his body that makes me shiver in return.

He pushes in deeper, and I can't help it. I part my legs a bit more to get him closer to me, and the short movement sends a wave of pain through my leg that makes me flinch. Harry immediately stills, preparing to pull out but I won't let him. _Oh no Styles, you don't_. Grabbing his hips I keep him in place, pulling him even a bit closer to me so he can't escape. I tilt my head back a bit, letting him slide deeper into my mouth and the loud groan that escapes his lips is proof that the gesture is much appreciated. He regards me quizzically for a moment, unsure if he should go on, and I encouragingly circle my tongue around his tip, assuring him that I'm fine. I unwrap one of my hands from his hips and reach out to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly while he keeps pushing in and out of my mouth, knowing that this will probably drive him crazy - it does. Throwing his head back he moans and pushes into me one last time, then he stills before his hips jerk and white liquid shoots down my throat. I greedily swallow it all. "Oh shit, Louis, aaah..." God, how I love watching him come, his brow furrowed, mouth slack, his body trembling with pleasure. Pleasure that I caused him.   
Coming back down from his high he bends his long body so he slips from my mouth and rests his forehead against mine, his arms resting around my shoulders. Both of our ragged breathing is the only sound in the room.

“I shouldn't have done that, Louis. I'm sorry.” Harry mumbles, his voice strained, and I shake my head.   
“I wanted you to, Harry. You had my full consent. In fact, I think it's safe to say that I forced you to. And I loved it, so don't worry.”  
"Still, I should've been stronger than it. But I can't seem to resist you, can I?” he laughs bitterly, his face twisted but his eyes looking down at me in awe. And, what? He can't resist me? _Then why are you trying to leave me_?, I want to scream, want to yell at him but I don't. Instead I stay quiet, absorbing his words, memorising the sound of his voice and the look on his face so I can always look back on it in a time where he might not be by my side. _I can't seem to resist you._

“Oh, Lou, what you do to me..." he whispers and leans away from me so he can look me in the eyes, his pupils still dilated, cheeks flushed and hair an even bigger mess than usual – so painfully beautiful. My heart stutters in my chest, beating to erratically that I'm sure he must be able to hear it. I can't help it, I reach out to run my fingertips from his temple over his cheek down to his jaw, feeling the light stubble underneath my skin, and watch in awe as he closes his eyes and leans into my touch, looking like a content kitten. If he starts to purr...the thought makes me giggle.  
"Now, Mr. Tomlinson, what made you so happy?" He teases, snapping out of his sentimental mood, and smiles down at me in wonder, then reaches out to push my fringe off my forehead.   
"You did." His face softens, eyes widening even more and without saying a word he leans down and presses his lips against my own; our lips moving in a slow but heavily intoxicating dance. Just as I'm about to part my lips to deepen the kiss he breaks away, shaking his head. "No, Louis, I can't risk hurting you any further."   
"Harry, you just sucked me off and then fucked my mouth. I think it's a bit too late for that don't you?" I pout, wanting him to kiss me, to consume me. Guilt flashes across his face but is eventually replaced by a crooked grin, and my heart stutters.  
"No. The answer is no." he whispers gently, then places one last lingering kiss on my lips to take the sharpness from his words. Grabbing my shoulders he pushes me back onto the bed until I'm laying down flat on my back, and this time I don't fight him, my body still too boneless and content.  
"Sleep. You look exhausted." He commands, and I nod dutifully.  
"I am naked though" I protest, pointing at my completely exposed body. Harry grins.  
"Oh yes, you are." Appreciative eyes scan my exposed body, making me flush deeply, and I have to resist the urge to cover me up. This man has seen me naked countless times, no need to get shy now.  
"But if you insist..." He bends down to pick up his shirt that he unceremoniously dropped on the chair and kneels down next to me.   
"Sit up." I do as he says, and seconds later I'm dressed in his shirt. It's way too big for me, it reaches down to my knees and effectively covers me up. And oh, it smells heavenly.   
"Thank you." I smile up at him and he grins back, his eyes raking over my body, and he nods in approval.  
"You're welcome. Now sleep." I flop back down and he reaches for the duvet, then covers me up and tucks me in.   
"I don't think that's part of your job description Mr. Styles," I breathe, peeking up at him. He laughs.  
"It isn't, but I think we've abandoned that job description long ago, don't you agree?" I swoon.  
Well, in that case...  
"Will you stay with me then? Like you did in the hospital?" I beg, giving him my best Tommo pout. It seems to be working, I see the indecision on his face.   
"Louis, I don't want to hurt you." he murmurs, definitely torn.  
"Oh, stop with the hurting me Styles, I'm not made off glass. This is getting annoying. And you already slept with me when the injury was brand new and nothing happened. I sleep better when you're with me."   
“It's annoying that I'm trying to take care of you?” Harry pouts, frowning down at me, and fuck me, he looks genuinely hurt.

“No, God Harry, no.” I assure him. “It's super super sweet, thank you. But you worry too much. I want you by my side, and when I tell you that I'm okay, you can believe me.”  
“Can I?” he wonders, eyeing me sharply, and I take a deep breath before nodding.

“Yes, you can. I promise I'll be honest with you and tell you when it hurts.”

“Okay. Good.”   
“Then what are you waiting for?” I ask, holding up the duvet for him, inviting him in. After a short moment of hesitation he puts his boxers back on and slides into the bed beside me, warming me immediately. He gingerly rests his arm across my stomach and leans his head on my shoulder, curling up next to me.   
"Okay?" He mumbles, and when I nod he presses a quick kiss to my throat.

“Honestly Harry, thank you. For being here, for helping me after...after everything and I...”  
“Shh, Louis.” A finger is pressed against my lips, effectively shutting me up. “Let's not talk about that right now. You're injured and tired and so am I. Let's just sleep and talk about it tomorrow, okay?” Harry whispers against my skin, and I nod tentatively. So he wants to ignore the elephant in the room for a while longer. I'm fine with that. As long as he's here, with me, I'm fine with everything. _I can't seem to resist you._ How is this possible? How is he here, after all he said on Wednesday, holding me, worrying about me, saying things like that? Sighing, I decide that Harry Styles is probably the most confusing person I've ever come across. Somehow, the thought makes me giggle.

“No giggling after ten pm, Louis. Sleep.” Harry chastises me, but his voice is warm and amused, humming deeply through the darkness between us. He gently squeezes my waist then closes his eyes. So do I, and I fall asleep to Harry's breath fanning over my neck and his fingers trailing soft patterns over my belly.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so super sorry for the long wait but I was on holidays for two weeks and I absolutely couldn't write with my Mum always around me. Have this mammoth of a chapter as an apology, because how did this end up being 13k words? Someone shoot me, I am insane. My brain is completely fried now and I immediately need a two week Spa holiday to recover from this. Please?   
> Anyways, happy reading and all the love,
> 
> Lily x

The next eight days kind of go the same way. Harry and I have slotted back together without really talking about what happened, it seems like neither of us want to address the elephant in the room. It's still there, though, looming over us like a dark cloud, but we're both too contend and too scared to actually voice our fears. I try, I really do try not to be cranky but the truth is, being trapped indoors because of my leg really isn't working for me. I've never been good at staying inside for extended periods of time, I always need something exciting going on, and slowly but surely this cabin fever is driving me insane. I snap at Harry more than I should, and I even got my Mum mad during our phone call yesterday. Sighing, I stare at the screen of my laptop, mentally counting the days until I get rid of the crutches. I want to go out, but Harry won't let me. Says it's too dangerous. Tries to make me see reason by explaining that if I hurt my knee again before it's fully cured I won't be able to play for an even longer time. He's right, of course, but still. Being ill sucks.

With a huff I click on the next video in my "drown in self pity" playlist on Youtube when an advert comes up, cheesy violin sounds coming through my speakers. Annoyed, I'm just about to hit the 'skip this advert' - button when I get a good look of what the advert is actually about - and my heart freezes. With shaking fingers I type away on my laptop, make some phone calls, print some tickets...

Buzzing with excitement I burst into the living room where Harry is currently hoovering - I don't think my house has ever been this clean, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be amazed or horrified. With his back to me and the noise of the hoover he hasn't heard me yet so I hop my way over to him, careful not to trip over the wire and die. Stepping close to him I wrap my arms around his waist from behind and press a kiss to his shoulder blade, the surprised tension in his body melting as he leans back into me. Stooping down he turns off the hoover and spins around to face me, his hands secure around my waist to make sure that I don't fall over, I'm still a bit wobbly on my legs with the cast wrapped around my knee because I can barely move one of my legs.

"Hello you," he mumbles, those stupidly pink lips stretched into a giant dimpled smile that automatically has me smiling in return. Though my smile definitely has a mischievous edge to it, and he notices immediately.

"Louis, you've got that shit-eating grin on your face that you always have when you're up to something. What's going on?" he demands to know, voice wary and I shrug, innocently peeking up at the ceiling while struggling to maintain my poker-face.

"In that case..." Smirking, Harry digs his long fingers into my sides, right where he knows it tickles the most. "Oh, Harry, no....you...." Between giggles and gasps I try to swat at his hands but it's useless, I can barely stand on one leg, fighting Harry is not really an option. Before I can fall over, he picks me up and sits down on the sofa with me still in his arms so I'm sat on his lap, my legs stretched out over his. "you... little s-shit..." Throwing his head back Harry laughs, my favourite full body cackle, complete with crinkled eyes and what I call his 'squished hamster face', and thankfully he stops tickling me, both of us gasping for air.  
"Now tell me what's going on, you cheeky monkey." He whispers into my neck, his lips brushing against the delicate skin just underneath my ear and I shiver involuntarily, my skin breaking out in goose bumps where his warm breath hits it.  
Smiling, I meekly pick up the duffel bag that I dumped on the floor and place it on the sofa next to him. Seeing his confused glance, my smile widens into a smirk.  
"You need to go home today, Styles. Get some more clothes. Pack a bag."  
"I've got enough clothes here, Louis. I don't need more." He objects quickly, his voice dropping an octave in confusion.  
"Yes, you do. Because we're not staying here." First bomb dropped.  
“Define 'here', please.” Harry eyes me warily, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line and I can't help but laugh out loud at the reluctant look in his eyes. Grinning, I press a quick peck to his lips and pull back before he can respond, marvelling in the way I have total control of the situation and he has absolutely no clue. This is awesome.  
“'Here' as in London. We're not staying in London.” I confirm his fears and my grin widens when his mouth pops open, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Louis..."  
"The plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning. I'm not telling you where we're going, except that it's not too far away and the weather will be pretty much the same as here, hopefully minus the rain."  
"Lou..." Harry starts again, concern clouding his features but I cut him off, knowing exactly what he's going to say.  
"No, Harry, I know what you're thinking, but please let me explain. I've been in here for over a week and there's literally nothing I can do, I'm going insane. I need to get out of this place, need to see some new things or I'll explode. And you, as my dutiful bodyguard, are of course coming with me. Besides, I have a promise to fulfil." I grin, my heart picking up speed when I think back at Harry's blinding smile that night, during that dull dinner, when I made my promise. It was that kind of smile that shines brighter than the sun, turns the world on its axis. So full of hope, of happiness, radiating light. My god, I hope that I'll see it again tomorrow when he figures out where we're going.  
Sighing, Harry regards me shrewdly for a moment but he knows that there's just no fighting me. And he knows I'm right, of course my cranky behaviour didn't go unnoticed by him. So slowly, the hesitation falls from his face until he nods in resignation, a small smile on his face.  
"You're nuts, Lou. Absolutely nuts." He mumbles, shaking his head in disbelief but his smile widens, becomes something more real, something deeper, amusement sparkling in those deep green eyes.  
"I know." And I want to say it, want to say 'you love it' but something stops me, so I don't. I can't. Not when my Mum's astonished face comes to my mind, her easy words, _ tell him that you love him _ , her surprise at my vehement claim that I don't.  
"And you won't tell me where we're going?"  
"Not a chance in hell, Styles. This is a surprise. We'll be gone for three days, so go get some clothes. I won't bring you along in smelly socks." I warn playfully, knowing full well that without Harry and his cleaning, I'd be the one running around in smelly socks.  
A disbelieving laugh falls from his lips, and with a fond eye roll he leans forward and presses his lips to mine in a soft, chaste kiss. "Crazy." Harry mumbles before pecking my lips again, his lips forming the words against my own. "Absolutely, completely crazy." Another kiss, longer this time, and my mind goes hazy.  
"Only for you," I whisper, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them, my brain too clouded from his kiss to realise what I'm doing, saying. His lips freeze against mine, and I can feel the harsh breath sucked into his mouth, sucking the air out of me while I wait for his reaction, heart hammering in my chest. And then a soft, deep growl rumbles through his chest, falls from his lips in a low moan, and _ fucking _ hell. It's the hottest sound I've ever heard. With desire shooting through me, hot and heavy, I lean forward, bridging the few inches between us to press my mouth to his again, harder this time. He responds immediately, letting his tongue slip into my mouth to claim me, his hands gripping me firmly around my waist to keep me steady on his lap. I begin rocking back and forth as best as I can with my injured leg stretched out beside me, desperate to hear that sound again,  _ needing _ to hear it again. Tilting my head to get a better angle I tangle my hands into his curls, anchoring him to me as our mouths slot together, hot and wet and so, so desperate that I have to fight a moan myself when I feel him harden beneath me.  
"Lou," he gasps, long fingers digging into the flesh on my hips, slipping around to firmly grasp my bum and I groan, helplessly lost in my need for him.  
"God, Harry..." I breathe when he slips one of his hands beneath the waistband of my sweats to caress the skin just above my crack, just barely slipping his fingers between my cheeks. "I want you so much, need you so much..." I pant, because my brain has apparently decided that it's confession night tonight. Way to go.  
"Fucking _ hell _ , Lou," Harry groans, the sound so raw, so primal that it shakes me down to the core. With quick hands he pulls my hoodie over my head, so desperate that he almost tears it apart, and bends down to fit his lips around my right nipple, sucking so hard I nearly leap off his lap. "I want you, Lou." he promises, green eyes peeking into mine for a second before he focuses on my chest, sucking again. "Every day." He sucks my left nipple into his mouth, circling the sensitive skin with his tongue. "Always." The last word rolls over my skin like a whispered caress, rising goosebumps, and I let my head fall back, eyes squeezed shut at the overpowering sensation in my chest. Tonight is different, somehow. We've fucked before, yes. We've even fucked on this sofa before, plenty of times. But tonight is much more open, more honest, and so much more desperate. He pushes into me again and again, slick skin sliding against slick skin, and his eyes never once leave mine. Not when I come with a heavy shudder, spilling on both of our naked chests. Not when he comes with my name on his lips like a prayer, his hands cradling my face like its the most precious treasure. And as we lay in bed afterwards, showered and tangled up in each other, it dawns on me that tonight was different because we didn't fuck. It didn't feel like fucking, not like before. It almost felt...it almost felt like making love.

  
  


*

  
  


Heathrow Airport at 7:30 in the morning is the most horrible place to be, I decide,my tired eyes scanning the masses of people hurrying by. Children are crying, parents are fighting, couples are hugging emotionally, and everything is a hectic mess.  
"I love airports." Harry mumbles from his place in front of me, swiping a crumb of croissant from the corner of his mouth, and I nearly choke on my tea.  
"You love this?" I ask incredulously, pointing at the crowd passing the small airport restaurant we're sitting in.  
"No, not the masses. But... I like that airports are kind of floating in between. In between places, you know? You're not quite here and you're not quite there, airports are a getaway, a gate to a new place, a new world. So full of hopes and dreams and fears. Some people here run towards something, some run _away_ from something. Others have no plan at all. There's a lot of movement here, a lot of deep feelings. I like that." Harry explains, shrugging like its the easiest thing in the world as he lets his eyes travel over the people around us. I sit in my chair, completely baffled, because of course Harry can compose fucking sonnets about airports. Of course he's intellectual and deep and sees a meaning in this place, where all I saw before was noise and stress and shops claiming to sell the cheapest cigarettes in the world. But now, as I look around again, his words in my ear, I notice a young girl, not much older than 18, sitting my herself, cup of coffee and her passport in hand, a hopeful look on her face. Is she going to a place far away, to start her life? Or the businessman rushing past with clacking heels, is he hoping to get a good deal? Maybe he's going to branch out abroad? The lady with her two young children, is she looking forward to a calm holiday at the beach, preferably with a kids club so she can have some time for herself?  
"You're right," I admit, nodding slowly. "It's intriguing, to look at all these people and wonder where they're going and why. I never looked at it that way, but of course you make me see things differently. How do you do that?" I wonder, more to myself, and Harry simply shrugs and gives me a dimpled smile, downing the rest of his coffee.  
"You know what's also intriguing? Being at the airport and not knowing where you're going." He mumbles, giving me an accusing look and I smile to myself, beyond pleased with how everything worked out. He still doesn't have any clue. I checked us in online and handed the lady at the check-in the tickets before Harry could see them. She just accepted our shared suitcase and waved us away, too busy for a chat in the early morning rush. I checked the gate but didn't tell Harry which one is ours, and since there are loads of flights leaving at 8:30. Harry is completely clueless, and I fucking love it.  
"Yeah, I can imagine that that must be a troubling situation. But I wouldn't know about that, would I?" I tease, giving him a wink before pushing my chair back and standing up. "C'mon Styles, let's get moving." With an incredulous grin Harry hands me my crutches and shoulders both of our carry-on bags before following me through the airport. We stroll towards our gate, stopping at some shops to try new perfumes and look at sunglasses. I'm tempted to buy a new pair, but the closer we get to the gate the more excitement bubbles in my chest, and I don't really have the nerves to go shopping.

We pass a magazine shop, and as I can spot our gate just a few metres away I decide to drop my first hint. Pretending to be in deep thought I stop in front of the small shop, eyeing a shelf of dictionaries.  
"Do you think I should've bought a dictionary?" I wonder aloud, tapping my finger against my chin in a thoughtful gesture.  
"Don't ask me Louis, I don't even know where we're going." Harry growls, his exasperation growing and I smile wolfishly before picking up my crutches and continuing towards our gate. Harry follows me, bemused.  
"We should be fine. Your French should be good enough." I explain casually, keeping a straight face while my eyes are set on him, studying his reaction. He stops walking, nearly stumbling over his endless legs as his jaw practically hits the floor.  
"French? We're going to France?" Nodding, I lift one of my hands to point at the monitor next to our gate, the words "British Airways, 8:30, Paris" shining brightly on the screen.  
"Oh, did I forget to tell you? We're going to Paris."

  
  


*

  
  


Harry pushes the door to our hotel room open, holding it open so I can hobble past him. It's a nice room, nothing too fancy but with a lovely view over Montmartre, one of Paris' most colourful quarters. The only luxurious item in the room apart from the large bed is a play station, a request of mine. I want to comment on it but I can't, because as soon as the door falls shut behind us Harry is on me, crushing me to his chest, his hands cupping my face. He's looking down at me with gleaming eyes, his thumbs drawing soft patterns across my cheeks, and after a moment of just gazing at me he leans down until our lips meet, soft and warm and so, so tender.  
"Thank you," he whispers once he's pulled away, his lips only inches from mine. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Lou."  
"I promised you, remember?" I mumble back, dropping my backpack to the ground so I can run one of my now free hands through his hair, gently pushing some stray curls away from his face. "I saw that smile on your face, I just had to."  
Blushing, Harry chuckles nervously before dropping his gaze, pretending to suddenly be very interested in the plain wooden floor and I grin widely, hooking my hand under his chin to lift his head back up. When his eyes meet mine my heart stutters painfully inside my chest, because holy shit. They burn like molten emerald, with an intensity and softness that I haven't seen before, and the look nearly brings me to my knees.  
"You're amazing, Lou. I can't thank you enough." Reaching out he runs his hands over my cheeks down to my jaw, cupping my face in his hands again before pressing his lips to mine in the softest kiss, his warm lips melting against mine again and again.  
"If you keep doing that we won't make it out of this room today, and we have a city to explore." I whisper breathlessly, somehow managing to pull myself away from his spell long enough to get the words out. With a lopsided smile Harry grins down at me, tilting his head to the side.  
"Where do you want to go first?"  
"Uh. I don't know? I've got dinner booked in a restaurant for tonight but that's it. I was hoping you could tell me where to go, I'm trusting your judgement. I've never been to Paris." I admit, shrugging helplessly because apart from the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre (how do you even pronounce that?) I don't know much about Paris and its sights.  
"There's so much to do, so much to see... Loads of museums." Harry smirks, whipping around to grin at the Play Station tucked beneath the TV in our room. "Guess I'll have to play and lose countless rounds of Fifa to make that up to you."  
"That's why I ordered a Play Station to be in our room. Little request of mine," I shrug, smiling innocently as Harry barks out a laugh, shaking is head at me.  
"You're totally over the top, Louis Tomlinson. But okay, dinner tonight? Can I take you to dinner tomorrow? I know a good place." His arms snake around my waist where he locks his hand behind my back, holding me close as his smile turns wistful and I nod immediately, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  
"Of course. You're calling the shots while we're here." Grinning wickedly, Harry smirks at me, clearly satisfied with my answer.  
"Hmm, I like that. Me in charge? That has potential." Winking, he unlocks his hands and slides his large palms down to my bum, cupping my cheeks and squeezing, making me gasp. His lips move to my neck, sucking at the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder and I shiver, involuntarily leaning into him, seeking more of him, always more. Suddenly he pulls back, smacking my bum once before shooting me an amused look.  
"But you're right, no funny business now, we have a city to explore. Let's freshen up a bit and then we're heading out." Releasing me, Harry bends down to pick up my backpack and I accept it from him with a groan.  
"You bloody tease," I grumble before hobbling to the bathroom to wash my hands and face. When I'm back Harry has his own backpack packed with some necessities and slung over his shoulder, looking like a proper tourist.  
"Ready?"

  
  


Paris is beautiful. Though the sky is clouded the sun peeks through every now and then, dipping the beautiful old buildings in a bright creamy colour. Since we're in Montmartre Harry takes me to Sacré Cœur first (and God, I'm not even going to touch that name but I made Harry say it about fifty times because shit, it sounds hot when he speaks French), a cathedral made of white stone sitting above Paris. From there you have an incredible view over the city, colourful houses and streets stretching on in front of us with the Eiffel Tower glooming over it all in the distance, dominating the skyline.  
We decide to go there next, hopping on the Metro to get into the city, moving along with the masses of tourists and Parisians, blending in so inconspicuously that whenever we stop at a sight I feel brave enough to take Harry’s hand. We walk around the city towards the Eiffel Tower, Harry slowing his pace so I can keep up with my cast, and I find myself watching him more than the city around us. There's this light around him, this skip to his steps as he glances around, taking in this city that he clearly loves so much with gleaming eyes, like every corner we round holds the answer to every question he's ever had. He told me that he used to go to Paris with his family for years, but somehow I get the feeling that there must be more to it than just that. I don't push him though, instead I just find myself smiling along to his joy, his excitement so contagious. I've never seen him this happy, this alive before, and as I let him lead me through the streets I feel something inside my heart shift, a heavy pull from deep within that I can't explain, can't describe but somehow I know that it means something very, very important.

"Crêpes for lunch?" Harry suggests, pointing at a stall selling the delicious sweets just down the road.  
"God, yes." I moan, rubbing my grumbling stomach. "With Nutella, please."  
"Anything for you. Wait here." Harry teases, and with an exaggerated bow he heads off to order the food while I sit down on a bench, observing the park in front of me that leads up to the Eiffel Tower. I let my glance swipe over the flowers, trees and people, taking it all in, feeling the magic buzz of this city. Paris is one of the most famous cities in the world, and I can see why. It's beautiful, full of life and colour while still maintaining its historic flair.  
"Voilà." A hand comes into focus, holding a paper plate with a Crêpe drizzling with chocolate, and my mouth waters.  
"Holy hell, yes!" I yell excitedly as I take the plate from a grinning Harry and immediately take a bite, feeling warm chocolate running down my chin but I don't particularly care - I'm in food heaven. Harry sits down next to me, close enough that our thighs are pressed together and I swallow harshly as his heat seeps into me. When I look up at him with wide eyes I discover that he's got his own Crêpe in hand, filled with Nutella just like mine, and I gasp.  
"Harry Styles, what is wrong with you? You're eating chocolate, are you sick? Were they out of kale Crêpes?" In exaggerated worry I place my hand on his forehead, pretending to feel his temperature as he chuckles, curls flying wildly as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.  
"You're corrupting me, Louis. And sometimes I just have... cravings,” he admits, blushing, and I feel like my insides might explode as I take in the darkening look in his eyes, peeking down at me through dark lashes.  
"Cravings, eh?" I repeat weakly, captivated by his eyes as the air between us begins to sizzle heavily. I reach out tentatively, my hand hesitating for a second before I swipe my thumb over the corner of his mouth, wiping away some chocolate that has gathered there.  
"Chocolate," I explain unnecessarily, my mouth incredibly dry as we continue to stare at each other. Harry's eyes darken even more, the green nearly gone, swallowed by the black of his irises. Slowly, so tortuously slowly he leans in until his lips landing on the side of my chin, sucking gently and my eyes fall shut, my entire body tingling.  
"Chocolate," he repeats, his voice rough life gravel and so, so deep. My eyes fall to his lips, so plump and pink and just inches away from mine and the pull inside my chest intensifies, becomes impossibly strong. I can't resist, I just can't. I have to lean forward to capture his lips with mine, and I don't care that we're in a very public park in a crowded city, I don't care that people might recognise me and take pictures. I just need this. I need to feel his lips on mine right in this very moment, in this City Of Love. Exhaling heavily against my mouth Harry drops his empty plate, carelessly letting it float to the ground as his hands come to rest on my hips, holding me closer to him. Tilting my head to get a better angle I swipe my tongue over his bottom lip and without hesitation he opens his mouth for me, letting his tongue meet mine in a heavy dance.  
“Hmm, you taste like chocolate,” Harry groans against my lips, pulling away for a second to get the words out before he dives back in, pressing his lips to mine almost bruisingly hard. “So sweet.”  
A giggling group of teenage girls walks past us, all in super skinny jeans and these weird crop tops underneath their coats, looking totally alike with their phones out. They stop a few metres away from us and begin to take selfies and I groan, because reality hits me. Suddenly I remember that we're in a very very public spot, and while I doubt that French teenage girls would recognise an English Premier League player there might be paps around or other people that might know who I am. And if I'm seen like this, wrapped up in Harry Styles in Paris with my tongue down his throat – well, things might get a bit ugly for both of us. Sighing, I bury my head in the crook of his neck to take a few deep breaths, inhaling his smell and enjoying the feeling of his lips against my forehead before I force myself to pull away.  
“We should probably... you know, be more careful. Public place and all.” I try to smile encouragingly but it comes out as a forced grimace that matches the look on Harry's face.  
“Yeah.” Harry agrees, smiling sadly, and immediately stands up to throw our empty plates in a nearby bin.  
I stand up as well and turn my back to him, watching the group of girls that still takes selfies in all kinds of positions.  
"How do you even take one of these selfies with that thing in the picture?" I wonder loudly, taking my phone out and holding it at arms length but I can't get the Eiffel Tower in the picture. I huff, frustrated, and try to stretch my arm even more but it's useless, I'm too small. Grinning, Harry moves to stand next to me and snatches the phone from me. He holds it out, sticking his tongue out at me when the Eiffel Tower appears on the screen behind us.  
"Aw, is someone too tiny, hm? Don't worry, Harry for the rescue." He teases, obviously enjoying himself and I can't help but reach out and lightly punch his rib case, pretending to be offended.  
"Yeah yeah, you monkey. Now shut up and bring those endless limbs of yours to use. Cheese!"

  
  
It's museum time next, and while Harry buys us two tickets I stand back, hidden behind a locker for the guest's bags. I feel my phone vibrate with a message from my Mum, and when I unlock it a giant smile spreads across my face as I take in my background picture. Harry and me with wide smiles on our faces, our cheeks smushed together, the Eiffel Tower standing tall and strong behind us.

***how's Paris?*** , my Mum wants to know, and I bark out a laugh at the three suggestive smirking emojis she added to the message.

***very satisfying*** , I send back, biting my lip to hide the smile on my face when she answers with two monkey emojis, one with his hands clasped over his eyes and the other with his hands over his ears. 

* **I did not want to know about this, Louis Tomlinson. Have fun, love you boo xx** *   
“You ready to go in?” Harry asks, appearing behind me with two tickets in his hands.   
“Yeah, hang on, let me just text my Mum back and then we can go in.” I agree, my thumbs flying over the screen of my phone to send her the selfie of Harry and I that I love so much.  
“Okay. Tell her I said hi, yeah?” Harry demands, and I grin at him before passing the greeting on to my Mum.   
* **aw, you two are so cute. You look so happy, Lou*** Mum sends back, at least ten heart-eyes-emojis following her message and I fondly roll my eyes at her. I reply with a simply but meaningful * **I am happy*** , and when Harry gently puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me to the museum's entrance, I can't help but think,  _ very happy indeed _ .

  
  


  
  


The museum wasn't too bad, actually. I discovered that I quite like impressionism, there were some lovely paintings that I enjoyed. And, of course, with Harry next to me, standing so close that I could feel his heat seeping into me, nothing could ever be bad.  
In fact, life's pretty good right now, I think happily as I let my eyes travel across the water, the Seine weaving through the city, the last rays of the setting sun dancing on the tiny waves.   
“It's a beautiful city, isn't it?” I wonder out loud as I walk next to Harry, so close that our arms are constantly bumping, each touch accompanied by a shot of heat tingling through my body.   
“Yeah, it is.” Harry agrees softly, a gust of wind ruffling his curls, and I have to clench my fists by my sides to stop from reaching out to fix them for him.   
“Good surprise, then?” I ask, peeking up at him through my lashes and Harry stops walking, his hand reaching out to grab mine. He pulls me to him and walks us backwards until my back hits the tall wall separating the riverside from the street, the branches of a nearby tree shielding us from the world. Gently cupping my face between his hands Harry leans forward, his nose bumping into mine, our lips brushing softly as the Seine floods by carelessly, the leaves of the tree rustling in the evening breeze.   
“The best.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


“This game is shit,” Harry complains, throwing the controller onto the sofa next to him and pouting cutely, his arms crossed in front of his chest like an angry little boy and I can't help but laugh and lean over to brush a kiss against his cheek.   
“No, you are shit. This game is awesome.” I object, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling out of my chest when Harry shoots me a murderous glare. He just lost another game of Fifa against me, but at least he scored a goal this time. Unlike the first two times we played tonight. Let's just say, as good as Harry usually is with his giant hands, they definitely don't know how to work a controller.   
“It's kind of cute that you're such a clumsy idiot when it comes to games like this.” I add, grinning widely because I know exactly how much Harry pretends to hate being called 'cute'. As predicted, he immediately sits up straight and shoves my outstretched legs from his lap, careful as to not hurt my knee but with enough force to show his mock outrage.   
“Cute? I'm gonna show you cute, Mr. Tomlinson.” Harry threatens playfully, a growl rumbling through his chest as he shifts his body until he's hovering over me, holding his body up with his arms so he doesn't crush me. I stretch out beneath him, arms lazily crossed behind my head, grinning like a cat that just got the cream.   
“Oh, please do, Curly.”   
“Yeah yeah, you're grinning now, but wait until I've finished with you.” Harry mumbles darkly, sending me a wicked smirk before lowering his body to rub his nose against mine, his lips brushing my cheeks and jawline but never my mouth. Getting frustrated I tilt my head, trying to capture his lips with my own but Harry tuts playfully and pulls away, grinning down at me adorably with his hair completely messy and his eyes sparkling with silent mischief.   
“And what do you think you're doing, Louis?” he wonders innocently and I raise my eyebrows at him in a 'are you fucking serious' – manner that has him chuckling.   
“Trying to kiss you?” I throw back like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and really, it is.  
“Like this?” Bending down again Harry presses his lips against my cheek again and pulls back slightly to give me a questioning glance. When I shake my head he sighs and brushes his lips against my forehead, the same glance following the gesture. Another shake of my head, and a kiss is pressed to my temple. Groaning, I lightly punch his chest and growl a “Not there, you goof,” and a giggle escapes Harry's lips before his innocent poker-face is back on.  
“Where then?” he wonders playfully, frowning down at me in mock confusion and I make a show of pointing to my lips, pinning him with a glare so he knows I'm adamant.   
“There?” Harry gasps, his mouth moving into a perfect O-shape, eyes wide and round and sparkling with amusement and fuck me, he's so bloody cute when he's in a playful mood. I nod sharply and watch as Harry seems to ponder over my request for a moment before he shakes his head.  
“Nope, can't do that I'm afraid. That sounds an awful lot like funny business, and there will be no funny business on this sofa tonight.” And, what? Did I ever say Harry Styles is cute? It was all a lie. He's not cute, he's cruel. Absolutely cruel. My mouth pops open in surprise, but before I can protest I feel Harry's lips against my ear, moving smoothly against my skin as he whispers “Want you in bed, so I can wreck you properly as a Thank You for this trip.” His quiet words hold so many promises that I can't help but shiver, because oh. Okay. Maybe not so cruel after all. Smirking, Harry moves to stand and I can't do anything but lie there, on the sofa, completely bedazzled and motionless. “Up you go, little one,” Harry smirks before linking his hands behind my thighs, just underneath my bum, and picking me up. I immediately wrap my hands around his biceps for support as he carries me the short way to the bed then gently sets me down, ever so careful and mindful of my injury. He lays me down so my head rests on the giant stuffed pillows and my legs are stretched out, then crawls onto the bed next to me on his arms and knees, hovering over me again.   
“That's better,” he mumbles happily and then my mind kind of goes blank as he lowers himself down to kiss my neck, wet lips sliding smoothly over my tingling skin, sucking and biting as I squeeze my eyes shut. He lets his lips travel down to where my neck meets my shoulders, his fingers fisting my oversized t-shirt and pulling it down to reveal my collarbones. My hands shoot out to grab hold of the duvet as his tongue laps over them, a gasped, 'Fuck, Harry,' leaving my lips as he sucks a deep bruise right below my left collarbone.   
“Hmm,” Harry hums against my skin, lips sliding soothingly over the throbbing spot. “So lovely,” he whispers admiringly, shifting so he can suck a matching bruise into my left collarbone.   
“I think this will have to come off, don't you agree?” Playing with the hem of my t-shirt Harry smirks up at me before shuffling down my body, straddling my hips. He pushes the shirt up, just a few inches, to reveal a small strip of my skin and immediately lets his lips explore it, lets them slide from one hipbone to the other. I nearly leap of the bed when he pushes his tongue through the trail of dark hair that leads from my navel into my sweatpants, mumbling a “so soft” into my pale skin. Slowly, so tortuously slowly he lifts my shirt inch by inch, his lips sliding over every new patch of skin he reveals as if he's discovering the most precious treasure for the first time and god, it's a lot. It's almost too much, the way he looks at me with his eyes wide and full of awe, his lips exploring every inch of my body and something inside of me bursts, a door is pushed open inside my chest that I know I'll never be able to close again.  
“H-Harry, shiiit...” I moan when he finally reaches my chest, his fingernails digging into the skin just above my hips while he sucks my left nipple into his mouth, biting gently. My hands move to his hair almost automatically, trying to hold onto something as pleasure shoots through me hot and heavy, but he immediately releases my hips to pin my hands by my sides. I gasp, overwhelmed by his sudden movement when he shakes his head at me, grinning widely with his eyes wild and lips so plump and swollen that it's almost painful to look at them.   
“No touching. This is all about you tonight.” And oh, fuck. Why is it so hot when he manhandles me like this, holds me down and presses me into the mattress? I've always liked to be the one in control, but this? My cock twitches visibly in my pants, almost painfully hard already and Harry hasn't even touched me yet. How is this supposed to end?   
Directing his attention back to my chest Harry focuses on my other nipple, nodding approvingly as it puckers and hardens under the wet touch of his tongue. “This I like. Very much so,” he smiles proudly before kissing each nipple one last time and moving down my chest with slow pecks until he's back at the waistband of my joggers, his hands still holding mine in place so I can't move. My breath hitches, because damn, he's so close. So close to where I desperately, desperately want him. But apparently, he's merciless tonight, because instead of focusing on my cock he releases my hands and slips my sweatpants down my legs, pulling them off with languid movements. I expect him to come back up to me but he doesn't, instead he stays at the end of the bed and slides his tongue over my ankle, his lips pressing soft kisses to the side of my calves.   
“I love your ankles. So delicate, so small. Sexy as hell. You can tell a man by his ankles,” he mumbles deeply, his teeth gently dragging over my sensitive skin and I shiver, my entire body tingling and on edge. His name falls from my lips in a moan as he moves higher on my unharmed leg, sucking a deep bruise into the soft skin on the inside of my knee.   
“Such soft hair, and the softest, peachiest thighs. So strong. Fuck, your thighs are hot. Can't get enough of your legs.” I groan, completely overwhelmed by his words and the look of utter admiration on his face as he sucks lovebites into the inside of my upper thighs, crawling higher and higher until he's almost where I want him the most, so close but not quite there. His tongue moves through the dusting of hair on my leg just below my boxers and my hips arch upwards, my erection aching for some kind of contact and I know that that's exactly his game. Teasing me, winding me up like that, and I can tell by the look on his face that he absolutely loves it, the little minx.   
“I need you still, baby. Stay still,” Harry demands, pinning my hips down with one of his large hands and I nearly come then and there, just from the sight of one of his giant hands covering almost my entire belly.   
“Fuuuck, Harry, please,” I whine, unable to stop from begging because shit, I need him, right now.   
“Soon, baby. Let me take care of you.” Another high-pitched whine escapes my lips, but then Harry pushes my legs apart so he can lie down between them and my mind goes completely blank except for _Harry Harry Harry, please please please_. With his hands still holding me down he gently bites the waistband of my boxers into his mouth, pulling the fabric down a bit to reveal my pubic hair and suddenly letting it snap back with a clapping sound, my body jolting violently.   
“P-please, Harry, please,” I moan again, too far gone to care about the whiny tone in my voice. Looking up, Harry lets his eyes roam over my body for a while, taking in my trembling muscles and the lovebites scattered all over my skin, and fuck, he looks so wrecked already. My mouth waters at the sight of him, my hands twitching with the effort not to touch him, and finally, finally he relents. Dropping his head he noses along my rock-hard erection, clearly outlined through the tight fabric of my pants and I gasp, fisting the sheets so tightly that my knuckles turn white. Carefully and so teasingly slowly Harry peels my boxers down, the cold air against my heated skin making me hiss. He drops a single kiss to the tip of my erection, licking off the precome that has already gathered there and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to come then and there. I can't stop the violent shudder running through my body, though, and Harry smirks proudly as he slides out from in between my legs to stand up. He walks over to the bedside table, taking out the bottle of lube I brought along and a condom, and when he turns back around he stops at the edge of the bed, watching me quietly, his eyes almost completely black.   
“So fucking gorgeous. And all mine,” and oh shit. I moan out loud, the meaning of his words hitting me heavily inside my chest. Fuck, this is so hot. Why is this so hot? Ever since 'confession night' a few nights ago, something has changed between us. I can't tell for sure what it is, but it's intense. We're so much more open with each other, telling the other how we feel rather than keeping it bottled up, and fuck as if this isn't the hottest thing in the world. I feel so wanted, so beautiful under his scorching gaze, and to know that this beautiful man wants me as much as I want him makes my head spin faster than ever before. Suddenly there it is again in my mind, this tiny word. Popping up like it's the most natural thing in the world. Love. But I push it away quickly, push it to the very corner of his mind and instead focus on Harry crawling between my legs again, lube in hand. He generously coats one of his fingers with the clear liquid while licking stripes up and down my shaft, gently sucking the tip of my erection into his mouth.   
“Oh shit, Ha-harry...” A long, high whine pushes past my lips as he slips the first finger inside of me, pressing it in carefully while distracting me with gentle sucks to my tip. But he doesn't need to distract me, there's no pain tonight. Just pure, hot pleasure as I push my hips downwards, trying to get him move inside of me. When he finally does little gasps fall from my lips, and soon I'm begging for a second finger, and then a third as he scissors his long digits inside of me.   
“Fuck,” I shout, hips bolting upwards when he brushes over my prostate, my body shuddering violently at the sensation. “Harry, please. Want you. Want you so much.” I beg, needing to feel him hot and heavy inside of me _right now_. Thankfully, he seems to be just as agitated as me by now, a thin layer of sweat across his forehead and his tight jeans doing nothing to contain his massive erection, so he quickly slips out of his clothes and is back on me in a flash, all lubed up with a condom in place. I can feel him pressing against my entrance and finally, for the first time tonight I untangle my aching hands from the sheets to wrap them around his neck and into his hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. Our tongues meet before our lips to, and slowly, carefully, he pushes into me inch by inch until he's bottomed out, his balls resting snugly against my arse. Both of us are panting, our lips just opened against the other's, brushing lightly, both too blissed out to focus on proper kissing.   
“Okay?”, Harry whispers against my mouth once his breathing has calmed and I not frantically, needing him to move.  
“Perfect. Move, please.” And he does. Pulling back almost all the way he slams back into me, each thrust pushing moans from my lips as he drives into me, over and over and over again. Letting my head fall back I slide my hands down from his neck to his chest, moving smoothly across his damp  
skin, and I can feel his heart hammering in his chest, just as fast as mine. Grunting, he changes the angle of his hips, driving into me even deeper and hitting my prostate dead on.  
“FUCK! Fucking fuck, yes, just like that, fucking hell...” I cry, curling my hands against his chest and dragging them down over his stomach, my nails leaving angry red marks on his creamy skin.   
“Shit, Lou. You're so gorgeous, so perfect,” Harry pants, dipping down to move his lips over my chest, gently biting on the marks he already left there. Groaning, I tilt my hips upwards, rubbing against his stomach because I am so hard it almost hurts and I'm so, so close, my body desperately craving friction to chase its release.

“Fuck, Harry, I need.. I need to...” I try to tell him, but he seems to know exactly what I mean when he wraps his large palm around my shaft, pumping it with tight, quick strokes.   
“I know. Come for me, gorgeous. Please.” The last word is breathed out with so much desperation that I know he is close, too, and I can feel the familiar burn building deep inside my lower stomach, ready to explode.   
“Oh god, oh god oh god oh my fucking god.” The words leave my mouth without me noticing, sweat coating my forehead and stomach but I couldn't care less, not when pleasure shoots through me so intensely that my vision goes black for a few seconds. My entire body shudders violently, my back arching upwards as I come into Harry's fist and onto my stomach, my completely burnt-out brain doing nothing to contain the moans falling from my lips.   
“Fuck yes, thank god,” Harry groans, and after a few more thrusts I feel him spilling into the condom, his body collapsing onto the bed next to mine.   
“Hi,” I whisper weakly when I finally find the strength to open my eyes to see Harry propped up on his elbow next to me, watching me with soft, wide eyes. He lifts one of his hands to stroke my sweaty fringe off my forehead before trailing his fingers over my cheek and neck to my chest. He swipes his finger through a drop of come on my lower chest, spreading it over my skin before grinning down at the mess, then back up at me with a shrug. “Oops?”

  
  


*

  
  


After a copious breakfast and an exchange of morning blowies, Harry drags me to the Louvre. It's huge and giant and confusing and so full of different epochs that I don't even know where to start. Remembering my reaction to the Greek sculptures in London Harry wisely decides to skip the Greek and Roman exhibitions and leads me straight to paintings. There are a few nice ones, yeah, but the Louvre is so crowded and huge that it generally lacks the flair and charm of the Musée d'Orsay, and when I stand in line for 10 minutes just to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa, which is supposed to be one of the most famous paintings in the world but in fact is the most boring, unspectacular and _tiny_ image of a woman, I've had enough.   
“Styles, take me out of here.” I groan, leaning against the wall to my left and nearly knocking down one of the paintings attached to it. Luckily, Harry hastily pulls me back before I can cause any serious damage, so we just get a chastising look from one of the uniformed security dudes, and then Harry grabs my hand and pulls me through the flood of people, hopefully to the nearest exit.   
“I knew you'd hate this place,” he giggles as he leads me down a staircase, which is good, brilliant even, because I think we're on the first floor – or is it the second? - and the exit is clearly on the ground floor. You go Styles.   
“Oh, did you now? Then why the fuck did you drag me into this shit?” I demand to know, one eyebrow pulled up in my typical Annoyed-Tommo look, and Harry's dimples pop as his lips curl upwards in a grin.   
“First of all, because you can't go to Paris without seeing the Louvre. It's a no-go.” He explains, holding up his index to get his point across, looking very much like a professor lecturing a misbehaving student. Hmm, professor Harry... That might be interesting, I decide, then re-focus on what Harry is saying.  
“And second, just for this very look on your face right now. This annoyed 'what has my life become' look, when you scrunch up your nose and frown. It's cute.”   
“Cute, hm?” I repeat dryly, desperately trying to fight the grin that threatens to spread over my face but I'm too weak. Oh well, I am but a foolish mortal, aren't I?  
“Very.” Harry confirms with a wink, but there's a seriousness in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine, and I'm beyond relieved when I spot the main exit in front of us, distracting me from the heat beginning to bubble inside my chest.  
“Freedom,” I cheer loudly, throwing my arms in the air and inhaling fresh, Parisian air, a welcome relief after the stuffy air in the museum. Chuckling, Harry shakes his head at me in fond exasperation, and when he gently guides me to the right to explore whatever sight he's come up with next, I find myself ready to have a look at whatever he wants to show me next, because no stinky museum or crowded palace could ever dim my excitement at being able to spend time with him.  
  
  
  


  
  
  


“Lou?” Harry appears in the doorway, his curls freshly brushed and still a bit wet from the shower we took not too long ago. He looks amazing in all black, with his skinny jeans and black button-up accentuating his long body.  
“Yeah?” I breathe, swallowing to get rid of the dryness in my mouth.  
“You ready for dinner? The cab will be here soon.” And, right. Harry insisted on taking me out for dinner tonight, saying he knows a good place, so I smooth my hands over the black blazer covering my torso and adjust the buttons on my white shirt, then nod.   
“Totally ready. Let's see what you've come up with.”  
  
“We're here.” Harry announces tightly and gets out of the car first, holding the door open for me and steadying me until I'm standing on my own two feet. We're standing in front of an old Parisian building, tall and painted in a creamy white colours, the words 'Chez Aline' written in looped calligraphy across a sign over the door. I can feel Harry take a deep breath, his face an impassive mask but there's a hidden longing in his eyes as he lets them travel across the old façade of the building in front of us, taking it all in. “It hasn't changed much,” he announces with a tight smile and before I can ask what he means he takes my hand and pulls me towards the door, a determined look on his face.  
It's beautiful on the inside, thick deep red curtains and tablecloths over dark wooden tables, a small golden chandelier hanging over each of them. We're approached by a young man in waiter's uniform who greets us in both English and French, giving us the option to choose.  
“Bonsoir. Réservation pour Styles, s'il vous plaît," Harry mumbles, his deep voice carrying over the noise of the restaurant and I shiver. Harry speaking French will never not be hot to me.  
“Mais bien sûre Monsieur Styles, bienvenue a 'Chez Aline'. Permettez-moi de vous emmener à votre table.” The waiter – his name-tag introduces him as 'Sébastien' – bends down in a quick bow and then grabs two menus from a table near the door. He leads us all the way through the restaurant, but I barely pay attention to the place. All I can focus on is the look on Harry's face. He looks around, lets his eyes travel over the tables and expensive portraits of old French ladies on the walls, and there's a small smile on his face but it doesn't reach his eyes. They're clouded, a hint of sadness dimming the usually shining green, and I wonder what it is about this place that troubles him so.

“Est ce tableau bien pour vous, Messieurs?,” Sébastien speaks up and I just smile at him, not knowing what he said but Harry nods before turning around to face me.  
“This table okay, Lou?”  
“Oh, yeah, sure. It's lovely.” And it really is, tucked away in the furthest corner of the restaurant to give us some privacy. We sit down and Sébastien hands us the menus, then asks about the wine I suppose since Harry orders a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for us both.  
“This place is so cute,” I announce, smiling and looking around again before setting my eyes on Harry across from me, his features flickering in the light of the candle between us.  
“Yeah, it is. And it really hasn't changed since the last time I was here, except for the waiters, they're all new.”  
“You know this place quite well, don't you?” I wonder, eyeing him suspiciously and Harry smiles, another one of these sad tiny smiles.  
“Yeah. When I was younger we...” he starts, but is interrupted when a loud female voice suddenly announces, “Harry Styles! Mon amour, qu'est ce que tu fais ici?"  
"Helena!" Harry yells, shooting out of his seat at lightning speed and wrapping his arms around the tiny, fragile old lady that has suddenly appeared in front of our table. She completely disappears in his giant hug but returns it enthusiastically, and I sit back in my chair with a frown on my face as the two of them pull away only to whisper to each other in French. The frown is soon replaced by a soft smile curling the corners of my lips upwards when I see the sparkle in his eyes, the happiness in his enthusiastic gestures. He's clearly beyond happy to see this Helena, whoever she is, so I just smile and watch them without interrupting like I usually would. Harry has been so nervous all evening and now he finally seems at ease, talking to the elegantly dressed old lady, so who am I to ruin it for him? It's a joy to see him like this, with an almost boyish smile on his face, widening as Helena whispers something into his ear and gently pinches his cheeks.  
“Et qui est-il?” Helena mumbles, pointing at me and shooting me a curious smile when she sees me looking back, and if I'm not completely mistaken Harry blushes slightly, it's hard to tell in the dim light of the room.  
“C'est Louis, mon petit ami.” And, yes, Harry is definitely blushing now. He shoots me a nervous glance, nibbling on his bottom lip but I just smile reassuringly. I know that he just introduced me to her, but I have no clue what exactly Harry said. I hope he didn't say that I'm smelly. Or that he technically works for me, that would be unfortunate. Seeing my clueless reaction Harry's smile widens, relief lifting some of the nervousness in his eyes and I seriously wonder what the fuck he said to the woman. Probably that I'd rather order a burger than any of the delicacies they offer here. Meh. Turning around to face me, Harry grabs Helena's tiny elbow and leads her closer to our table so I politely stand up to greet her.  
"Lou? This is Helena, the owner of this restaurant. Helena, Louis." Grinning I raise an eyebrow at Harry because damn, he's polite as ever, and extend my hand for Helena to shake. She surprises me, however, when she pulls me into a hug instead, so I gingerly hug her back. Looking over her shoulder I cast a glance at Harry that clearly says 'help, clingy French lady here', but the bastard just grins and shrugs. Thanks, Styles. Really helpful.  
"Don't be silly Louis, you're family now, and you don't shake family member's hands," Helena promptly whispers in my ear and wait, what? Family? Is Harry related to her? Before I can say anything, Helena releases me and smiles again, this time a lot warmer. "It's so lovely to meet you Louis," she purrs in her heavily accented English and I nod, forcing out a confused "Likewise" because I'm still totally out of my depth here.   
"Harry, love, I have to run back to the kitchen, but don't you dare run off without talking to me before you leave. I haven't seen you for years, we need to have a good chat." Helena threatens, punching Harry's chest with her tiny fist before kissing his cheek and running off to the kitchen. Harry just smiles as he watches her hurry away, a dopey grin on his face.  
"Ah, Helena. She hasn't changed on bit, the older she gets the crazier she becomes though." He mumbles, more to himself than to me, and sits back down at our table. "Do you know what you want to eat?"  
  
The food is absolutely delicious, and so is the wine. We both dig in, and I try, I really do try to focus on the food and not on the way the candlelight dips Harry's curls into a golden, honey-like colour. But...I'm only human after all, right.   
"Harry?" I ask quietly, smiling when Harry squeezes my hand that is covered by his on the table. "Care to let me in on what this is actually about?" Confused, he lifts his head so his eyes meet mine, a nervous glint in them.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Helena, and this place. What does it really mean to you?" I question carefully, not wanting him to shut down before I get my answers. "I can see it, you know? You're nervous. Helena clearly means a lot to you. And you keep looking around with that wistful look on your face like this place holds all the memories you ever made."   
"I didn't think it's that obvious," Harry mumbles and looks down into his wine glass, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, leaving it swollen and red from the wine.  
"It's not. I just know you better than you think, Styles," I tease softly, joining his quiet chuckles. Turning my hand upside down so our palms are pressed together I link my fingers through his, squeezing his hand to encourage him to go on.  
"I suppose you do." Sighing, Harry picks up his wine glass and downs the rest of his wine before setting it back down. His second hand wraps around mine as well, his long fingers playing absent-mindedly with mine.   
"This place..." He looks around again, the candlelight flickering in his eyes and light throwing shadows on his face and my god, he's so beautiful it's almost painful. "My parents met here. They were in their early twenties, young and naive and on a business trip to Paris. Their companies were merging, so they met over dinner and a glass of wine, a bit like we are now." Harry smiles wistfully, sadness pulling down the corners of his lips a bit, and I gently squeeze his hand again.   
"My Dad proposed here, too. Took my Mum on an anniversary trip to Paris four years later, and proposed. She said yes, of course. They went to Paris at least once every year after that, and they always came to this place. When my sister and I were old enough they brought us along, we had a week of family holidays here in Paris every year. Always went to 'Chez Aline' when we were here, and Helena has always been a part of it. She's like Family, almost. I have so many good memories of this place." He explains, his voice dropping to a whisper at the last sentence and I swallow harshly to get rid of the lump that is starting to form in my throat.  
"That's a beautiful Story, Harry. Why did you stop coming here?" I wonder, remembering that he said he hasn't been to Paris for years. I feel his hands tense, his entire body going stiff as he directs his gaze to the lone candle flickering between us, a haunting darkness flashing across his face that makes me shiver.   
"Not in here. I'll tell you outside, later. Let's just enjoy dinner, okay?" Harry demands weakly, the grimace of a fake smile plastered across his face, and grabs the bottle of wine to refill our glasses.  
  
  


  
When he comes back from the kitchen where he chatted with Helena Harry hands me my coat and helps me slip it on, then follows me out the door. Cold air greets us, cold enough that our breath creates little puffy clouds in the crisp night. I feel Harry's fingers brush against mine and immediately turn my hand around so our hands can slot together. We walk in silence for a while, two dark shadows walking around the empty streets of nocturnal Paris, and then the Place Des Vosges appears in front of us, the fountains now turned off. It almost looks scary in the dim lights of the surrounding houses, emptiness where earlier children played and happy couples lay on the grass, reading and feeding each other grapes. Harry leads me to one of the benches and sits down, releasing my hand to run his own through his hair in a nervous gesture. I carefully sink down next to him, wondering if I should ask him again but I decide against it, hoping that my silence will prompt him to speak. It does; eventually.   
"My sister died." Harry whispers bluntly without any preamble, his voice barely audible over the faint noise of the city rushing past us in the background, and my heart sinks. I've suspected it all along but having him confirm it is like a punch in the gut. The air is knocked out of my lungs in a loud gasp, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour while not moving at all at the same time, always circling around that one sentence. _My sister died_. Fucking hell. Harry's sister died.  
"Harry..." I start but am interrupted by his frantic voice, growing louder and louder as he goes on.   
"She died and I couldn't deal with it and my parents couldn't either and now we're barely speaking and they're divorced and Gemma is gone and everything fell apart and I..."   
"Harry, shhh. Hey, stop," I gently interrupt his frantic rambling and capture his hands with my own to stop them from tugging at his hair in panicked motions. "Calm down, Harry, please." Tugging on our intertwined hands until Harry falls against my chest I wrap him up in my arms, holding his shaking body close, gently rocking him back and forth to calm him down. I've never seen him like this, he's usually so calm and collected and strong, but seeing him so fragile, trembling and hiding his face in the crook of my neck - it breaks something inside of me, and emotion hits me so hard that I gasp out loud. There's a weird, stinging sensation behind my eyes and I realise in horror that I'm about to cry. I haven't cried for years, yet seeing Harry like this, it hurts. It hurts so much that I can barely breathe, and I immediately tighten my hold on him. I lift one of my hands to brush through his hair again and again, my lips pressed against his temples as I hold him, kissing his cheeks and forehead over and over again until I can feel him relax in my embrace.  
"Nobody ever mentioned Paris again, after that. It just.... it wouldn't have felt right to come back here without her." Harry rasps, his hot breath washing over my neck and I shiver involuntarily. I squeeze him one last time before cupping his face between my hands and tilting his head upwards, making him look into my eyes. The sadness in there nearly kills me right on the spot.   
“I'm so, so sorry Harry.” I whisper, my eyes locked with his and I hate it, hate that I can't say anything better, anything other than 'I'm sorry'. Because it's probably the shittiest thing to say but what else can I say? I am sorry, so sorry for his loss and the pain he's going through. But how do I say that? How do I make it clear to him that my heart is breaking in time with his?   
Gently, I let my thumb run over his jawline, through the light dusting of hair on his chin, and press my lips against his in a soft, firm peck. “I hate to see you like this, so sad and hurting. I'm glad that you told me about this, because whenever you need me, I'll be there for you, okay? I promise.” Inhaling deeply, I trail my fingers over his cheek and anxiously wait for him to say something, anything.   
“Thank you, Lou. This means so much to me,” he breathes, tilting his head to press a kiss to my palm. “So, so much.” And there are so many questions I have, questions about how and when and why but I don't ask them, don't dare to push him any further, not when he's just started to open up. So instead I just lean in to kiss him, longer this time, trying to pour all the emotion I feel into the kiss, and so we stay like this, wrapped up in each other, kissing until our lips go numb and our fingers freeze.

  
  


Later that night, Harry is fast asleep next to me with his head resting on my shoulder, exhausted from his earlier breakdown but I am wide awake, my head spinning with all the new information he gave me tonight. A storm of emotions swirls through my chest, sympathy and compassion and anger, anger that a wonderful person like Harry had to go through this. There's something else there, too, something that makes my blood switch between boiling and freezing. A deep, heavy pull that makes me turn to my side despite the pain in my leg so I can watch Harry's sleeping figure, watch a strand of hair dance in front of his face with every breath he takes and it hits me like a tidal wave, the realisation what this means. Gasping, I place my hand over my heart, feeling it hammering against my ribcage with such force that I'm afraid it might break it. I scramble to my feet, carefully trying not to disturb Harry, and reach for my phone, typing two words into the search bar. 'Love definition'.   
258.000.000 results pop up, and my heart sinks. Sighing, I press the first link and drum my fingers against the sheets, impatiently waiting for the page to load.   
  
  


** Love: an unexplainable yet incredibly strong feeling for someone **

  
  


Shit, could they be any more vague? Huffing in frustration I click on the next link, hoping it will bring more clarity.

  
**A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.**

  
  


Tender and passionate? Hell yes, I am both things when it comes to Harry Styles. But does that mean I love him? That I'm  _in love_ with him? Sighing, I watch his chest rise and fall steadily, confusion clouding my mind but I can't deny the fact that as soon as my eyes land on him, my heart beat picks up speed.

Frantically, my thumbs fly across the screen, searching for an explanation but nothing satisfies me, it's all so vague, so seemingly insignificant compared to the wave of emotions inside my chest. Is that love? This anger I feel that Harry was hurt, this constant need to be around him, to make him smile and laugh and this need to know that he's okay? Is it love to let yourself get dragged through a museum for hours without complaining even though you hate art, just to see that spark in the other's eyes? 

Shit. I don't know. I don't fucking know. Groaning quietly I rub my hand over my forehead, trying to sort out my thoughts but there's no way to sort out the mess in my mind, so I decide to ask the person who got me into this mess in the first place.

**To: Mum, 01:32  
how do you know you love someone?**

I bite my lip, nervously waiting for her reply, and it feels like hours pass until my phone lights up with a text but it really just takes a few minutes. 

  
**From: Mum, 01:36**   
**Love is different for everyone, Loubear. But I always say you know you love someone when you want to share everything you have with them. Your money, your flat, your food, your bed, your laughter, your tears, your dreams, yourself. When the other's happiness matters the most. When their mere presence can make you feel like you're on top of the world. When you put the other person first, always. And when it doesn't scare you, but excites you.**

  
  


Could it be true? Am I in love with Harry? Me? Louis Tomlinson, the man who used to fuck a different girl every weekend just because he could? I never thought it would happen to me, ever. I thought love simply wasn't an option for me. But now, as I look at Harry's sleeping figure beside me, his chest rising and falling steadily, the emotions I feel seem to be overwhelming, overpowering, and I know it's true. I love this man, this man who came barging into my life and changed everything, made me question everything I ever believed in with his stupid dimples and long curls and endless legs. And his huge, huge heart. He has mine now, too, and as I gently stroke a loose curl away from his forehead, I can't help but hope that he'll give me his in return.

 

* * *

 

  
  


“Last call for all passengers booked on British Airways flight 474 to London Heathrow, please proceed to gate B23 immediately.” The announcement rings through the airport, loud enough to be heard over the masses of chatting people, crying children and squeaking suitcases, and once again I swipe my sweaty hands on my jeans, trying to get them dry. This is my last chance, now or never.   
“Harry?” I speak up, my voice cracking nervously and his head immediately snaps up from where he studied his boarding pass, ready to hand it to the lady at the gate.  
“Yeah?” Okay. Here goes nothing.  
“I, uh, I got you something. You know, like you got me the bracelet?” I mumble, keeping my voice low, my left hand automatically brushing over the charms of the bracelet hanging on my right wrist, the gesture already well-practised.   
“Oh. Really? You didn't have to, Lou, you already gave me this trip. Which is more than I've ever expected.” Harry rushes to assure me, his hand coming to rest on top of mine, brushing over the bracelet as well, the gesture hidden by his broad body.   
“But I saw this in a little shop in Montmartre” - credits to how terrified I am because I don't even hesitate before saying the French name - “and it was just so _you_ that I had to get it. It's just something small, but, yeah.” I finish awkwardly and dig into my backpack to take out the small, leather-bound book I bought while Harry was busy looking at little porcelain reproductions of Greek statues. The leather is smooth beneath my hands, and I try hard not to gasp when Harry's fingers brush against mine as I hand it over to him. He examines the book for a while, frowning when he discovers that it doesn't have a title. He flips it open, the first page revealing what the book is about.   
“Collection Of English Poetry, 1801-1939”, followed by an index listing the topics covered. Love, and I know that because it was the main reason why I bought this book, is the first topic covered, with 53 pages about it. That night, when I finally admitted to myself that I love Harry, I took this little book from my bag and read them all, every single love poem there was.   
“Lou...” Harry starts, wide eyes travelling over the table of contents, and I hold my breath when he turns the page. The next page, page two, is blank. Well, it used to be. But last night, after reading about love for nearly two hours straight, my hand linked through Harry's sleep-limp one, there was one quote that stuck with me. So I decided to add it to the book's blank page, to give it a personal note. My handwriting is shitty and messy and it looks like absolute crap, but it's about the message anyway. And the message is that as much as Harry turned my life upside down, he also showed me a side to me that I've never seen before. My Mum said that I've changed since I met him, but I disagree. I didn't change, the way I am right now was there all along. I just never knew it, but Harry found it, he found that part of me and gave me the strength to finally be who I am. Gay, not as strong and carefree as I pretend to be, a giant softie at heart.   
I nervously watch as Harry's eyes travel over the words, without any doubt recognising my handwriting, and his mouth pops open in surprise, his eyes wide and raw as he looks up at me, clutching the book to his chest.  
Because right there, in the centre of the page, I wrote:

_ Love is not about finding someone who completes you. It's about finding someone who shows you that you've been whole all along. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of weird for me to write because I've been to Paris a few times, yeah, but I'm not Parisian so please don't take my description of the too seriously, I'm writing from memory here. And for the French in this chapter, I used Google Translate and what's left of my Frenchpertise from school, don't be too hard on me please.  
> And the restaurant 'Chez Aline' really did exist at some point, because my Mum and I were talking about how the Place Des Vosges is our favourite place in Paris and she decided to casually drop that I'm named after a restaurant she used to like in the are. Way to go, Mum. So I kind of felt the need to include it, because I think it's a cute story isn't it?  
> Hope you enjoyed the chaper, stay sweet everyone.  
> Lily (or Aline, since Lily is just a nickname) x


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for over 8K hits, you have no idea how much this means to me. I’m so overwhelmed to have so many people that read my story, I never thought this would happen to me so thank you. I know that compared to other stories on AO3 8k isn’t all that much but it is to me, so thank you.   
> I don’t know when I’ll be able to update next after this, because I’m going to move across the country for University on Sunday & I have a flat to furnish and I won’t have internet at first, but I’ll definitely be back with an update at some point. Hopefully it won’t be too long.   
> All the love in the world,  
> Lily

Sighing, I press my face into the soft pillow and take a deep breath, the by now familiar mixture of my shampoo and Harry’s cologne hitting my nose. It smells like home. With sleep still tugging heavily at the edges of my mind and pressing my limbs heavily into the mattress. I’m only distantly aware of fingers running through my hair and the warmth of another body behind me, but I refuse to wake up just yet and keep my eyes tightly closed. “Morning, Lou.” A voice whispers, rough like gravel, and warm breath raises goosebumps on my skin as a kiss is pressed to the junction of my shoulder and neck, soft curls tickling my cheek. A heavy weight wraps around my hips as Harry slings one of his legs over mine, pulling me into his body and a happy sigh pushes past my lips. Still not quite awake I wiggle backwards into a solid chest, rising and falling steadily, his warmth too appealing to my still sleeping body and – oh. A grin spreads across my lips as I slowly peel my eyes open and cover Harry’s hand that is drawing circles into my stomach with my own. I wiggle backwards again, rotating my hips against his, and yep, there’s definitely a rock hard erection rubbing against my bum. A Harry Styles wakeup call, one could say. Smirking, I turn around in his embrace and am greeted by a mess of chocolate curls and wide green eyes, sparkling with amusement. “Good morning.” Leaning forward I place a kiss on the tip of his nose, biting it gently before pulling away in time to see it crunch up in the cutest way. “You need help there, love?” I tease, patting Harry's boxer-clad crotch fondly because we've become good friends over the last few months, Harry's crotch and I. Grinning, Harry reaches around me to fit his giant hands around my bum and presses me closer to him so he can grind his hips against mine, his erection deliciously digging into my hardening cock and really, how does he do this? I was asleep five minutes ago. Now? Not so much. I'm definitely up now, quite literally as it is. “Yes please,” Harry breathes, a boyish grin on his face, his eyes still soft and sleepy and my heart clenches painfully because Iloveyou Iloveyou Iloveyou. I don’t say it though, don’t think I could even if I wanted to. So instead I just smile cheekily and trail my hand down from his chest over his stomach to the waistband of his boxers, teasingly playing with the soft fabric. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

*

 

“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen,” Harry announces from where he’s leaning over the stove in just his boxers, preparing pancake batter, various different fruits just waiting to be chopped and eaten littering the counter and I know it’s my cue to leave, otherwise I’ll be assigned kitchen duty. “Good. I’m thinking about going for a quick walk, actually, now that I’m allowed to start using my leg properly. The weather’s nice.” I reply, leaning over Harry’s shoulder from behind, to press a kiss to his jaw and he looks up in surprise, his hands pausing where they’d been whisking the batter. “A walk?” he wonders, and I can’t help but chuckle at his wide eyes. “Yeah, you know, that thing where you use your legs to get from one place to another? That’s walking.” I tease, knowing full well that it’ll probably earn me a ‘shut up, Lou’, and possibly a punch in the stomach. “Shut up, Lou, I know what a walk is.” Harry prompts immediately, bottom lip sticking out in a pout that makes me want to bite it, and a second later his elbow lightly lands on my stomach. _Knew it_ , I think proudly, chuckling to myself. It should probably be scary how well I know him but somehow it just makes me feel warm all over. “But why do you want to go for a walk now?” “Dunno. Just feel like it, and the sun is out. So why not?” I shrug nonchalantly, hoping to appear casual but of course Harry doesn’t buy it for a second. Damn him. Frowning, he puts the whisk aside and turns to face me fully, his eyes watching me intently. “Lou, are you okay? What’s wrong?” And I want to tell him, want to yell _I’m still having a heart attack from nearly screaming ‘I love you’ when you sucked me off this morning and I’m too scared to say it because I don’t know how you feel at all_ but I don’t. Instead I just smile and press a lingering kiss to his bare shoulder, next to where the letter ‘G’ is inked into his skin. It nearly made me cry again, when he confessed that he got it right after his sister died to always remember her. “’Course I’m okay, just fancy some fresh air. That way, I won’t get in your way while you’re making breakfast, Chef. I’ll be back in ten.” I manage a weak smile and I can tell that Harry wants to argue but I shoot him a ‘please don’t’ look, because I just need some space, just for a few minutes. Some fresh air to clear my mind, so I won’t go ahead and say things I’m not ready to say just yet. “You’re never in my way, Lou. You should know that,” Harry states simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world but his small confession makes my throat feel tighter, and swallowing suddenly isn’t really an option. _God, I love you._ “But okay,” Harry finally relents after studying me for a few seconds, the frown on his face still prominent as ever. “Please be careful.” And I have to laugh at that, because it’s just so Harry. Telling me to be careful when I’m just going for a quick walk right outside my own house. “No, you be careful, Curly, your bodyguard side is showing.” I tease, trying to lighten the mood but Harry clearly isn’t having it. He regards me with worried eyes and steps closer, his hands resting warmly on my hips. “No bodyguard side here, I'm just worried. Don't, like, trip or get run over or attacked, yeah?” Harry mumbles earnestly, his green eyes boring into mine and any coherent thought I've ever had leaves my head until there's nothing but fluffy clouds left in there. Because fuck, he cares. So much, and it's very much too overwhelming and makes my heart hurt in the best way possible. He cares, yes, but is it love? Does he love me like I love him? “I lo-,” I blurt, barely managing to stop myself and oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck. This is exactly why I need to get out of here. “I mean, I love that you care and promise not to do anything stupid while I'm out. Ehm, yeah. Nothing stupid. I promise.” I stutter, mentally slapping myself across the face a few times because _damn Tomlinson, why are you so stupid?_ Confused, Harry just blinks down at me, and I know that if I don’t get out of here right now I’ll continue to talk bullshit. Dangerous bullshit, as it is, so I decide to head out. “I’ll be back in ten.”

 

It’s still relatively cold outside and I vaguely think that I probably should’ve brought a jacket, but nah. Too late now, and I’m definitely not going back inside to get one, not after I’ve made such a tit of myself. Harry’s probably confused beyond belief about my weird behaviour and I can’t help but feel bad about making him upset. Who knows what he must be thinking about me basically running out of the room after babbling such nonsense. Starbucks, I think happily when I spot the familiar green sign just down the road. I’ll get him his favourite Starbucks in hopes that it’ll somehow make up for me acting so weird. Maybe reminding him that I know him well enough to know his favourite drink will ease his mind a bit. And really, I never knew anyone’s Starbucks order ever, not even my Mum’s. Bit embarrassing how whipped I am, really, I think with flushed cheeks as I order a Vanilla Latte, of course with a shot of caramel cream. Just how I know he loves it. But I guess that’s what love is, isn’t it? Knowing what the other person likes? Love. Fuck, why do four letters make such a difference? It’s just a word. People talk about it all the time. They sing about it, write about it, every day. Why is it so hard for me to do the same? Maybe because I still don’t know where Harry stands, what he feels. I know he cares a lot, but caring about someone doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in love with them does it? He did almost leave me a few weeks ago, when he had his ‘moment of doubt.’ We still haven’t really spoken about it, about what it means for us. And now here I am, thinking about love and the future with Harry’s favourite Starbucks warming my freezing hands and shit, when did my life get so complicated? After the realisation that I love him, I nearly gave myself a stroke more than once on the plane to London, when Harry asked me something totally simple like if I wanted orange juice and I nearly replied with 'I love you'. Or when he adjusted my seat for me because I was too stupid to do it and instead of 'Thank You', the 'I love you' almost slipped out again. Or when he just sat there, reading one of the fat novels predicting the end of the financial area that he loves so much, his curls tucked behind his ear and the collar of his shirt dipping low, revealing his collarbones. I nearly said it then and there, because he looked so perfect and warm and soft with his sleepy eyes that I couldn’t imagine ever feeling about anyone else the way I feel about him. But I didn’t, and I don’t know when I will. If I will. Because the thing is, being in love, being in a proper relationship means responsibility. It means being tied down, settling down, committing yourself to another person and I’ve never been particularly good at that. I want it, I do. I want to wake up to see Harry half naked in my kitchen making pancakes on a lazy Sunday morning, I want to come home from training in the evening to see Harry cuddled up on the sofa, close to falling asleep while he waits for me to come home so we can talk about our days. I want it so much my entire body aches with it and it terrifies me, it terrifies me endlessly that I feel this way because I never did before. And I don’t know if I can do it. What if I fuck it up? What if I’m a bad boyfriend because I’m selfish and unable to totally commit myself? Harry doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who’s completely his. And as much as I want to, I don’t know if I can do it. Not with footy and my job and my shitty character. Hell, before I met Harry I had a different girl every weekend. And now here I am, walking through the empty streets of sleepy London, thinking about a future with a man. He changed me so much already, but can he change me further until I’m the man he deserves? And most importantly, would he even want to? Sighing, I push those thoughts aside and continue my walk down into Hampstead, the people passing me barely sparing me a glance from tired eyes. I’m just one of them, one of the poor souls that have to fight the cold air of London at 8 am, coffee in hand like everyone else. I pass a newsstand, a young guy, probably a student trying to earn a penny or two, sending me a hopeful look when I briefly let my glance swipe over the headlines. I give him a tired smile and truly contemplate buying a newspaper just to make this dull morning a bit better for him, when my smile freezes on my face. All the colour drains from my cheeks and the air is knocked out of my lungs as I take in the front page of The Sun. Suddenly I’m freezing, but it’s not from the cold. Right there, on the front page is a huge picture of Harry and me when we left the restaurant in Paris when I took him out for dinner on the first night. Luckily we’re not holding hands or kissing, but we’re definitely walking too close together. And we’re leaving a restaurant. Together. I don’t even have it in me to admire Harry in his all-black attire, too busy to read the headline over and over and over again. ‘Is London’s football hope Louis Tomlinson gay?’ It’s there, right there, printed in bright red letters, straightforward and calculating and it makes my blood run cold. Without even noticing I reach out for the slightly damp paper, gripping it tightly in my free hand, so tight that I’m afraid it might tear. But it doesn’t, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or not. It’s not like tearing a single newspaper apart would make it disappear. Because it’s everywhere, all over London and all over England and fuck. Gay. Louis Tomlinson gay. The picture. Gay. The words flash in my head, on and off and on and off, the bright red colour screaming at me, laughing at me and my stupidity. How could I be stupid enough to think we could keep this a secret if we’re walking around in Paris, for fucks sake? When did my brain decide that that was a good idea? When I knew it would make Harry happy, probably. _Love is when the other’s happiness matters the most_. Thanks, Mum, I think bitterly, my eyes still trained on the newspaper in my hand. Thanks for fucking me up. But no, I can’t blame her. I fucked up, not her. It’s my fault, and now I have to deal with the consequences. Consequences that make my heart stop beating just thinking about them. Fuck. “Sir? Would you like to buy that newspaper?” The young guy asks, not unfriendly, ripping me out of my thoughts and back into the real world, where I’m standing on a sidewalk in Hampstead with Harry waiting for me at home, and something inside me snaps. “Uh, no, sorry. I, I should be leaving. Have a good day.” With that, I slam The Sun back down on the counter and, ignoring the guy’s confused glance, turn on my heel and run despite the sting coming from my knee. With blind panic surging through me, I know I just have to get away.

 

As soon as the door slams shut behind me I run upstairs to start my laptop, my fingers impatiently drumming on the table while it loads. As soon as my laptop is running I fire up google, typing ‘Louis Tomlinson’ into the search bar and nervously wait for the results to load. When they do, each one is like a punch in the gut, and I weakly sink back against the chair, feeling like all the air has been knocked out of my lungs. There’s article after article about me possibly being gay, supported by several pictures of me and Harry leaving that restaurant in Paris that a lucky pap must’ve snapped without us realising. I distantly hear Harry calling for me from downstairs but I don’t react, it’s like my entire head is filled with cotton. Everything’s hazy, dull, unreal. Even the words in front of me begin to blur, to mold together into a big pile of panic that starts bubbling in my chest, filling my veins. There’s also a video of Harry’s reaction after my accident during the game, where the concern for me is clear on his face. You can’t hear any words, but the journalists seem to take Harry’s reaction as enough of an indication to suggest that there’s more going on between the two of us. That’s how Harry finds me, the video playing on repeat in front of me though I’m not even watching it, my head hidden behind my hands as if I could just hide and disappear. “Lou? Louis, are you okay?” Harry breathes, hurrying over to kneel next to me. He gently pries my hands away from my face, and when I finally look down at him I see so much concern and worry that it nearly makes me sick. “I brought you Starbucks,” is what my brain decides to say instead of answering his question, and I point to the cup sitting on the desk next to me with a weak smile. “Oh, uhm, thank you.” Harry mumbles, surprised, but he doesn’t move to have a drink. Instead he just keeps kneeling in front of me, holding my shaking hands in his much larger ones. “Lou, what’s wrong?” Without a word, I free one of my hands from his and open up The Sun’s online newspaper, and, with the story about us opened on the screen, turn the laptop so he can read it. None of us say anything while Harry’s eyes fly across the screen, taking in the words and pictures, and I watch as horror slowly fills his eyes, clouding the lovely green until it’s dull and grey. When he’s finished reading, he drops my hand as if he’s burned himself and flinches backwards, his face twisted in regret and fear. I stay silent, absentmindedly chewing on my thumbnail as I wait for him to say something, wait for him to accuse me of ruining him, wait for the ‘I told you so’ that is undoubtedly going to come. His mouth pops open, closes again, without a sound coming out and my anxiety grows, freezing my heart. When he finally does speak, it’s not at all what I expected. “Fuck. Louis, I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I ruined you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, I should’ve been more careful, I -” he rambles, his voice pitched in pure panic as he runs his hand through his hair, tugging roughly at the long curls. “No, no Harry, don't be. It's my fault too, we both should've been more careful.” I rush to assure him, grabbing his wrist to stop him from pulling at his hair. Because the thing is, I've only just admitted to myself that I love Harry and I still haven’t come to terms with it. I still haven’t even told him, so declaring it to the entire world, possibly losing my job and getting Harry in trouble for being with his client? That's absolutely not an option. I know that I will have to deny this somehow, to convince people that I’m not gay. I look up at Harry, finding my own panic mirrored in his eyes, and fear shoots through me so strongly that it makes my entire body shake violently. Because this is exactly why Harry almost left me the first time, because I can’t just openly admit that I’m gay. He almost left me before and I know it, I know that this will make him leave for sure. For good, and I couldn’t handle it. Ever. I jump up from my chair so quickly that it topples over, hits the ground with a loud clatter but neither of us even flinches. We just stare at each other, eyes full of panic and fear and indecision and my entire chest aches with wanting to be close to him, so I tentatively take a step towards him. When he doesn’t move away, I do what I desperately long to do and throw myself into his arms to feel his strength, to know that he’s here, that he hasn’t left me just yet. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing as close to him as possible, and nearly faint in relief when I feel his hands on my waist, holding me close instead of pushing me away like I thought he would. “Harry please, please don't leave me because of this. We'll figure it out okay? We'll find a way to convince them that this is all platonic at least until our contract is over. I’ll come out then, I promise I will come out for you. Just please, don't leave. Not now.” _Because I love you._ I add in my thoughts, but I don’t say it out loud. I couldn’t, not now. But I have to make him stay, have to tell him how much I need it because if he left me now, I don't think I'd survive. “Lou...” Harry starts, his hands tightening around my hips as if he’s getting ready to push me away but I tighten my grip around his neck, refusing to let him go as more words tumble out of my mouth. “No, Harry, listen to me. I – things have changed, okay? You said that – that you don't see the sense in this but I do. I do now, and I'll make you see it too. I’ll come out for you, eventually. We can’t be openly together because of the contract but…. The contract will be over eventually and then, then there won’t be anything stopping us. That is, if you still want me then.” Taking a deep breath I prepare myself for the rejection, for him to tell me that he doesn’t want me but when I look up at him, his eyes are soft, burning no longer with fear but with compassion. It makes breathing a tiny little bit easier. “Lou,” Harry rasps, his voice raw, but he doesn’t get very far because my phone rings. Groaning, I check the screen - it's Tom. And I think I know exactly what he’s calling for, so I quickly press the phone to my ear and shoot Harry an apologetic glance while listening to Toms instructions. When I hang up, I put the phone down and nervously face Harry again. “That was Tom, he wants us to come in for a meeting with our PR team. Both of us.” “Okay.” Harry agrees quietly, seemingly lost in thought. “Right now.” I add, biting my bottom lip into my mouth and Harry nods, his eyes a million miles away. “I'll get dressed.” Harry doesn’t say a word on the drive to the club’s office, just distantly stares out of the front shield as he navigates through the city. The silence is slowly but steadily eating away at me, but I don’t dare say anything either. What is there so say? I’ve lost him, for real now, and possibly ruined both of our careers in the process, and the black hole in my chest is expanding and expanding until there is nothing left of me but an empty shell, void of any emotion. Harry parks, but instead of immediately heading towards the office to get rid of me like I expected him to he turns around in his seat and faces me, a mischievous glint in his eyes that seems totally misplaced considering the situation. I don’t even have time to get mad about it, though, before he speaks up. “So what do we tell them?” “What?” I wonder, my mind unable to comprehend what he is saying. Shrugging, Harry shoots me a weak grin, and despite the emotional mess in my head it makes my body tingle. “Well, we can't exactly tell them the truth can we?” Harry states as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, amusement in his voice, and when he sees my entirely befuddled face he just shrugs lightly. I stare at him, dumbfounded, because suddenly nothing makes sense anymore. Is he suggesting we come up with a cover story? Does that mean he is willing to play along? Dare I hope that he’s not leaving? “We somehow have to convince them that we’re just friends, at least for now. So how about we tell them that you met a lovely French lady at the restaurant and I just accompanied you there as your bodyguard, but you left separately because it's nothing serious yet and you didn't want people to speculate?” I open my mouth, but no sound comes out but a broken croak. I clear my throat, hope surging through my veins so strongly that my head is spinning with it. “You're not running?” I finally manage to breathe, unable to conceal the hope in my voice. When Harry shakes his head with a small, private smile on his face, I nearly weep in relief. “No more 'where is the sense'? You’re staying with me?” I ask again, breathlessly, needing him to say it, to confirm it once and for all. “I'm not running. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to.” Harry replies earnestly and gently swipes his hand over my cheek, his eyes burning intently into my watery ones. “C'mon, let's go convince some people that I didn't fuck you into the mattress until you screamed last night.” Harry suggests, winking despite the undercurrent of panic still audible in his voice, and when we walk towards the building side by side he gives me a smile as if to say ‘it’ll be okay, we’ll make it.’ Somehow, it makes me believe that we will.

 

 

“So I’m possibly dating an ‘Amelie’?” I tease, running my hand through the light brown hair covering the centre of his chest. “It was the first French name that came to my head,” Harry laughs, his chest rumbling beneath me. He lightly trails his fingers from my bare shoulder to my back, the soft touch raising goosebumps on my skin and I sigh contently, snuggling closer to him. I lazily run my foot up and down his calf, our legs tangled together as I lie on top of him, my head resting between his pecks so his chest hair tickles my cheek, but I don’t care. I cling to him like my life depends on it, and somehow, it does. The good thing, though, is that he holds onto me just as tight. “You were very convincing in there,” I praise, thinking back to the way Harry explained that we’ve become good friends over the last months and he was worried when he saw me hurt because as my bodyguard, it’s his job to protect me and he thought he’d failed. He then came up with a story about how I met ‘Amelie’ through Liam, my old friend who now plays in Paris, and flew to Paris to have dinner with her. Harry totally charmed the pants off Tom and our PR team, and if I hadn’t known the truth I’d too be believing that I’m dating Amelie. As it is, it was definitely not Amelie I fell onto the sofa with as soon as we were back home, and it was definitely not Amelie who fucked me into the cushions until my head was in the clouds and I’d come twice. “And on the sofa, too,” I add with a grin, still feeling absolutely boneless from the intense sex we’ve just had. Harry feels the same, I know that from the way he just collapsed into the pillows, pulled me on top of him and lazily threw a blanket over our exposed bodies. We haven’t moved for the past 20 minutes, and it’s absolutely perfect. “Hmm. I used to be in my school’s drama class when I was 13. Seems like it all paid off in the end.” Harry jokes and I chuckle along with him. My chuckling ends in a deep sigh, though, and I heavily lean my head against his chest again so I can hear his heart beating steadily beneath my ear. “I’m so glad you didn’t leave me,” I breathe into his skin, puckering my lips to kiss the words into his chest, “I am, too,” Harry admits, tightening his hold on me, pulling me impossibly closer. One of his hands comes to rest under my chin to tilt my head up, and sincere eyes lock with mine before they flutter close as he leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips. “No more moments of doubt, yeah? We’ll figure this out, somehow. I… I need you too much. Don’t leave, please.” I beg again, propping my chin up on his chest so I can watch his face, my fingers drawing lazy patterns into the skin beneath his collarbones. “I won’t. I don’t think I could, Louis, honestly. What did you do to me?” he breathes in wonder, dipping his head down to gently trail his lips over my temple. “You? The question is, what did _you_ do to _me_?” I parrot his words and a wonderful grin spreads across his lips, dimples popping as he chuckles quietly. “You mean so much to me, Louis, I hope you know that.” Harry states earnestly, his fingers carefully brushing my fringe off my forehead so he can look me in the eyes. I swallow heavily to get rid of the lump that has formed in my throat as his words, and my voice breaks when I reply with a “you mean the world to me, Harry.” Smiling, he bends to kiss me again, his tongue lazily stroking over mine a few times before he leans back and pulls the blanket tighter around our entwined bodies. I cuddle into him, his arms and his smell and his warmth all around me and god, it feels like home. It feels more like home than any four walls ever could, so I just close my eyes and relax into his embrace. When his breath has evened out and I’m certain he’s asleep, I carefully lift my head to look up at him. He looks so beautiful in his sleep, with his hair fanned out behind him and his swollen, rosy lips slightly parted, long eyelashes throwing shadows across his cheeks. My Harry. The man I love. Somehow, the thought nearly makes me choke up. Reaching up, I gently tuck a loose curl behind his ear and trail my hand across his cheek before cuddling back into his arms, my face tucked into his neck. The ‘I love you’ that I whisper into his skin will forever be a secret that no one but me and the weak afternoon sun will ever know.

 

*

 

I release a Twitter statement a day later that tells the exact same story about ‘Amelie’ in short, and the media blows up again for a few hours at my dismissal of the gay rumours, but after that, things die down pretty quickly. We have a few quiet days when Harry doesn’t leave my house at all except for when he drives me to the doctor who declares me fit enough to start training again. He drives me to the stadium, too, and watches me drag my heavy body across the field with a smug grin on his face. It’s horrible what three weeks off training did to my stamina, but it’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be. When I mention that thought to Harry he just smirks at me and claims that’s he’s helped me keep up my stamina over those three weeks. Later that night, he pushes me into the mattress, claiming that we ‘need to keep working on my stamina to get me fit before the next game’. Not that I’m complaining.

The ‘I love you’ still threatens to push out of my mouth more often than not, and mostly it’s during the most ridiculous times, when Harry is doing the most normal things. It’s just still so unbelievable for me that he’s here, with me, and that he promised to stay so nobody can blame me for being a bit overwhelmed. I’ve gotten very good at biting my tongue, though, so the only time I dare say the words is when Harry is fast asleep. They still taste odd on my tongue, unfamiliar, but it’s getting easier. One day, I promise myself and him, one day I’ll get there. One day I’ll say them.  


“Harry?” I ask once the door to his Rover falls shut behind me and he looks up immediately, a smile on his face. “Terry asked me to go to the club tonight with a few mates. It’s Friday, and we don’t have a game tomorrow. I haven’t been out with them forever, so I said I’d go.” I explain carefully, knowing full well that my partying makes Harry fairly uncomfortable. His expression dims a little, but the smile remains on his face. “Of course, you go have fun. I think I’ll probably visit Niall, then. Haven’t seen him in forever. I could drive you to the club and pick you up afterwards?” he suggests, his free hand automatically entwining with mine that is resting on his thigh. “That’d be great, thank you.” I press a quick kiss to his cheek as a thank you, revelling in the way his smile widens to make his dimples pop.

The club is packed with sweating bodies and bad music, and I wonder how on earth this ever appealed to me. Well, maybe I liked this back then because I didn’t know how wonderful it feels to just lie on the sofa with Harry curled around me, sipping hot chocolate and watching cheesy movies. Or rather, not watching them and letting the hot chocolate grow cold on the couch table as we devour each other. Hmm, I’d very much like to devour Harry right now. But I can’t, my fuzzy brain realises, because he’s not here. He’s with Niall, who I still haven’t met officially except for when he once called Harry and I answered the phone instead. He’s Irish and talks all funny about some ‘craic’, but otherwise seems like a good lad. I check my phone for another text from Harry but it’s nothing there, so he must be driving. He texted me a few minutes ago to say that he’s on his way, and I can’t wait to see him again. “Hey, Tommo,” Max roars drunkenly, slipping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards the bar where Terry hands me another pint. I know I shouldn’t be drinking this much, but it’s so hard to say no when you’ve got so many expectant faces around you so I obediently take a sip. I’m fairly drunk already, drunker than I had planned to be but nowhere near as drunk as I’ve always been before I met Harry. My mates, though, they’re definitely on the right way to being wasted, all red rimmed eyes and slurred voices that make me cringe internally. “So tell us, mate. What ‘bout them rumours, eh?” Max slurs, his arm around my shoulders tightening and I freeze, the pint nearly slipping from my hand. What the fuck. None of them have ever asked about it, they simply accepted the story Harry and I had told without questioning it, so where the hell is this coming from now? “What about them?” I retort defensively, the grip on my pint tightening as Max just smiles, his eyes hazy. “’S it true that you like cock?” he asks bluntly, and I huff out a surprised laugh. Okay, here we go. Harry might’ve had drama classes as a kid but I never did, not that I ever needed them. I’m an excellent liar. “Mate, you’ve seen how I am when I’m clubbing. The ladies love me, I love the ladies.” I shrug, raising my arms like it’s the simplest thing in the world though the words nearly make me want to vomit all over the floor. “’s true, Tommo. But you’ve been pretty boring lately, so I thought you might’ve changed.” Terry observes from the side, eyeing me suspiciously and I shiver under his glance. “Nah, I haven’t changed. Still the same, but ’m getting old and boring. Clubbing’s not that much for me anymore,” I explain, desperately trying to appear casual and not like my heart is currently beating in my throat, threatening to choke me. I take another sip of my beer, carefully making sure that my hand doesn’t shake when I set it down. I feel panic rising within me but refuse to let it take over and instead force myself to take some deep breaths. Harry should be here any minute now, so I can leave soon anyway. They both laugh loudly, alcohol making their voices rising in volume and I flinch involuntarily. Was I really like that before I met Harry? Disgusting. “Can’t let you get old and boring can we?” Max yells, patting my shoulder so hard that the beer nearly spills over my shirt. Cheers. “See that blondie over there? Exactly your type.” He announces, pointing to a blond girl dancing a few feet away from us. “Been looking at you like she wants to devour you all night.” And oh. Yeah, she’s definitely not my type. Not anymore. Blonde, thin, too much makeup, heels too high, dress too short, and, most importantly, female. Not my type at all. But I can’t let them notice can I? I nod towards her, forcing a grin onto my face, and turn back to face Max. “Yeah, nice.” I breathe and immediately take a sip of my beer so I won’t have to say any more. Where the hell is Harry? I check my phone again, but still no new message from him. Dammit, I could really use an exit right now. “Nice indeed. C’mon, Tommo, go give the poor girl a kiss.” Terry urges, laughing loudly and this time I do choke on my beer and turn away from them to cough into my elbow. A kiss? No way. “Nah mate, I’d rather not.” I reply weakly, wiping my sleeve over my mouth and staring at the ground. “So you do like cock, then.” Max states, and there’s no judgement in his voice. But still, I just – can’t. I can’t let them think I’m gay. It’s too dangerous, with all those rumours still flying around. It’s too dangerous for my own job and for Harry’s and I just can’t let them tell anyone that I’m gay. In a year? Maybe, when the contract is over and people have forgotten that Harry was my bodyguard. But right now it would be a catastrophe. Taking another sip of my beer for encouragement I send Max a hopefully cheeky grin, and with a “Definitely not,” I make my way over to the girl. I don’t even greet her, don’t ask for her name, just stand as close to her as I dare and begin to dance. I know full well that there’s people with cameras all around, taking pictures for the club’s facebook page, and that’s exactly what I want. Pictures of me dancing with a girl at a club? Good way to fight gay rumours, I suppose. So I keep dancing and force myself not to retreat when she moves to grind against me, smiling weakly when I hear Max and Terry holler from the bar. It feels wrong, so absolutely wrong to be this close to a woman. Her perfume is too sweet, not at all musky like Harry’s cologne, and she’s too thin and small. I’m used to Harry’s broad shoulders and endless legs. I feel guilt rising in my chest but I push it aside. This is just some dancing, it doesn’t matter at all but it’s necessary to save my reputation. To save Harry’s reputation. So I close my eyes, swallow the lump in my throat and rotate my hips in time with hers. With my eyes still closed I don’t even notice that she’s turned around until a particularly strong whiff or her perfume hits my nose when she throws her hair over her shoulder. My eyes widen, her sudden proximity making me stumble backwards but she quickly reaches out to wrap her arm around my waist to keep me in place. Her eyes are grey, I realise with a start, and in a different universe I’d probably find them pretty. But right here, right now all that matters is that they aren’t green, and it kills me because they are not the eyes I want to be looking into. Not at all. I stumble backwards again but this time she follows me, stumbling right into me, and then I feel a pair of lips on mine. They’re sticky from all the lipstick and too thin, too soft without the hint of stubble around them that Harry has. A surprised noise leaves my lips, parting them, and before she can take the opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth I pull away, ignoring her baffled face. “Sorry, I – I’m taken,” I mumble hastily and make my way over to the bar, pretending not to see the hurt on her face. I do feel kind of bad for her, because I just used her for my own purposes, but when I look up towards the door I forget every thought I had about her because I realise there’s a much bigger problem waiting for me. Harry is standing there, his phone clutched to his chest, and from the stormy look on his face I can tell that he witnessed this kiss. Fuck. He stares at me with dark eyes, then points to the bathroom and heads towards it, indicating that I should follow him. I nod to tell him that I’ll be there, then head over to Max and Terry to down the rest of my pint, hoping that the alcohol will calm my racing heart. The glass nearly slips out of my sweaty hands and I nervously wipe them on my jeans. “What the fuck was that, Tommo?” Terry laughs throatily, his eyes crinkling with amusement and I resist the urge to punch him in the face. “I can’t do that to Ha – to Amelie. Yeah, to Amelie.” I explain breathlessly, my eyes fixed on the bathroom door where Harry has disappeared. “That girl in Paris? ‘S it serious then?” Max wonders, eyeing me in surprise, and I nod sharply before slamming the glass down on the counter. “Yeah, that _girl_ in Paris. And it is serious, very serious. I gotta piss,” I spit before heading towards the bathroom with my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I know it’s wrong of me to be mad at my mates but they did urge me to go to that girl and I’m angry at myself for letting them have that much control over me. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I slip into the bathroom to face Harry.

He’s leaning against the wall opposite of the door, arms crossed lazily in front of his chest but with the way his hands are tightly balled to fists I know he’s anything but calm. “Before you say anything, I hope you saw that I didn’t kiss her back.” I start gently, holding my hands up in a defensive manner. Harry nods, clenching his jaw for a moment before sighing and letting his arms dropping to his sides. “I saw that, and it’s the only thing that kept me from running to you then and there. But I did see the dancing, Louis, and you definitely didn’t keep much of a distance to her then.” Harry spits and I flinch but nonetheless take a hesitant step towards him. He doesn’t step back, and the amount of relief I feel because of that is ridiculous, really. “I know, I’m sorry.” I admit, because there’s nothing I can really say to deny it is there? Taking another deep breath I step closer to him until we’re close enough to touch, but I keep my hands to myself. Instead I just peek up at him, trying to gauge his mood. “But I hated it, I truly did. It didn’t feel right. She… her eyes were grey. Do you know how much it upset me that her eyes weren’t green?” I mumble carefully, and watch with relief as Harry’s eyes soften just a little bit. If I’m not completely mistaken, he’s fighting a smile. "Then why, Louis? Tell me, why did you have to do this?" he huffs, his face flushed with anger and I swallow harshly. Here we go. "Because there were cameras there, Harry, and the rumours are still so fresh so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give the media a few pictures of me with a girl. And my mates... they urged me on, asked me about being gay and I couldn’t let them believe I am so I had to prove that I’m not. It wasn’t… it wasn’t very nice of me but I just wanted to protect us, protect you. I couldn’t let them think I’m gay, not yet." I try to explain, desperate to make him understand that I only had his wellbeing in mind, but Harry's booming voice interrupts me. "Well, you fucking are though!" I flinch at the sudden volume of his voice and involuntarily step backwards, bracing myself against one of the sinks. “Or were all those times I kissed you, touched you, fucked you and you screamed my name, begging for more, a solid proof that you're straight?" He spits and takes a step towards me, towering over me with gleaming eyes, his fists trembling at his side. I keep my eyes on his, seeing the hurt and anger in them and I know I have to fix this, right now. "I am, yes.” I state calmly, the stability of my own voice surprising me and Harry’s eyes widen, perplexed. “I am gay, but I’m not ready to openly declare it to everyone just yet. All those rumours, Harry – if people really think we’re together both of us are going to get into huge trouble because we’re in a business relationship. I’m scared that you’ll be in trouble for being involved with a client, I’m scared that you’ll lose your job and quite frankly, I’m also scared that I’ll lose mine. I told you that you mean the world to me and I mean that, that’s why I tried to protect what we have. I’m sorry if it wasn’t the right way to do it but it made sense to me at the time,” I shrug apologetically, sending him a small smile when I see the anger melting away from his face. My honest admission seems to be calming him, so I decide to go on, to just tell him how I feel. “I’m in a very confusing position right now, I don't know what this is that I’m feeling because I never liked men but then you come along with your endless legs and bouncy curls and I just can't resist you." I admit breathlessly, and Harry looks absolutely floored. He just stands there, eyes and mouth wide open, staring down at me like he’s just seen the light for the first time and somehow, it makes me giggle. Feeling brave, I dare to reach up to run my thumb over his cheek, knowing full well that my own cheeks are probably bright red in embarrassment. I can't believe I just admitted all that. But it's the truth though, no other men appeal to me the way he does. No women appeal to me at either. Nobody does. Just him. And looking at him now, with this raw look on his face and his hair a mess from when he probably ran his hands through it when he was angry, I realise once again that it’s true. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want him, and it is the same now. Desire explodes inside me, hot and heavy because fuck he’s hot when he’s angry, and I just can’t stand the distance between us anymore. I launch myself at him, throwing him against the wall, taking him completely by surprise. I don't give him any chance to recover, though, instead I smash my lips against his, my hands traveling up into his curls, tugging roughly just the way I know he likes it. He groans, a deep, primal sound and I feel my cock twist, knowing exactly where this will lead and god, I want it. I want him. Suddenly he moves, grabbing my hips and spinning us around so that I'm the one against the wall now, his hands holding my wrists in a vice-like grip over my head, his hips trapping mine between his body and the wall so I can feel his growing erection against my own. Holy fuck. He smirks his typical smirk and then dips his head down again, claiming my mouth, possessing me like only he can, like only he ever has. I surrender completely, giving myself to him like I always do, trusting him with all I have. Lifting my hips I grind against him suggestively, deliciously rubbing our erections together until a heavy moan tumbles from my lips. Harry gasps and stills, then pulls away slightly so he can look at me, his eyes still burning but this time it's with lust, not rage. "We're in a bathroom in a club, Louis." he warns, his brow furrowed but I can see the want, the desperate need in his eyes, mirroring mine. "A private bathroom. With a locked door. Let go, Harry. Erase it, erase the image of her and me. Claim me, make me yours again, please," I beg, desperate for him. I need him. We need this. I need him to touch me, to know that we're okay. That he forgives me for my stupid stunt. Groaning, his eyes flutter closed and I know the war is won. Seconds later his lips are on mine again and his hands move to my hips, quickly unbuttoning my jeans and letting them slide to the floor. "Yes, mine..." he pants between kisses, his hand squeezing me through my boxers and if it weren’t for him holding me up my knees would’ve given in at the sensation. "I hope you're still loose from when I fucked you this morning, Louis," he breathes and I nod desperately, needing him to fill me, needing him now. "Me, not her. I'm the one who fucks you until you scream, not her." He slips his hand inside my boxers and then inserts a finger into me, checking that I am indeed still loose enough. "Yes, you. Only you." I whimper, goosebumps rising on my skin when he slides my boxers down my legs. "Damn right." In one swift move he tugs his jeans and boxers down, freeing his impressive erection and my mouth goes dry, my chest heavy with anticipation. Wrapping his hands around my waist he lifts me, and I immediately wrap my legs around his hips while he leans me against the wall to steady us. He reaches over to the sink to get his cock wet so it’ll slide a bit easier, since we don’t have lube. It’ll hurt anyway, but I don’t care in the least. “This will probably sting a bit,” he warns, eyeing me with a heady mixture of concern and anger in his eyes that makes me shiver. “But consider it a punishment for that stupid stunt.” A punishment? Oh god, yes. “Fuck, Harry, please.” I whine, suggestively pressing my hips against his to get him to move but he immediately tightens his grip on me to keep me in place. Damn. "I hate this, Louis." he whispers intently, his mouth just inches from mine. I can feel him at my entrance but he doesn't push in yet, so I squirm and try to grind down, needing him desperately. "I hate what you did. Your little stunt, it made me so mad. You make me mad." Without warning he slams into me all the way, causing me to cry out loud in surprise at the fullness. It stings just like he predicted but god, this feels good. He starts pounding into me, a punishing, heavy rhythm, relentless and I moan, tightening my legs around him, driving him even deeper into me. "I hate it, Louis." he groans, his eyes fluttering close and I reach out to run my fingers over his broad shoulders down his back, my fingernails digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. "The things you do to me... You confuse me. You drive me crazy. I hate you, Louis. I hate you so much." He kisses me passionately despite his words, his tongue intertwining with mine and I'm breathless, completely lost in this man. This man that I love. "I love you." The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them or even realise what I’m doing, and when it hits me what I just did I gasp, eyes widening in fear as I stare up at him. Fuck. I said it. All this time, I tried to keep it a secret, but now that I said it I know more than ever how true it is. Harry stills completely, standing stiff as a rock with his eyes wide open, raw and unguarded, letting me look right into his soul. "What?" he breathes, his voice barely audible. "I love you." And as I repeat the words, I wonder why I didn’t do this earlier, why I kept it hidden for so long. It feels so good to just tell him, to let him know what he truly means to me. And no matter how he’s going to react, no matter what he’s going to say, in this moment it is absolutely true. I love this man, this man that makes me question everything I've ever known. He came crashing into my life, turned my world upside down until it started turning on a different axis and I love him, even though he makes me mad and confuses me. Or maybe because of those things, I don't know. All I know is that he means everything. Harry is everything. "Oh, Lou..." he sighs weakly, and, closing his eyes again he leans his forehead against mine. Suddenly he starts moving again, even faster than before, hitting my prostate dead on each time and I know that I won't last much longer. He keeps pushing, in and out while I climb higher and higher until pleasure explodes inside of me and I come with a shout of his name, gripping onto his shoulders, my body shaking as wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure rolls over me. "Shit, yes, Lou!" throwing his head back Harry freezes, then his hips jerk and I feel him release into me, his mouth slack and his hands deliciously digging into my hips, holding onto me as he falls into pleasure. When he comes down from his high he bends down to gently kiss my cheek, a lingering, soft kiss that makes my skin tingle. Opening his eyes he stares down at me with those damn green, green eyes. The eyes that I love. With a radiant smile on his face and his voice soft as the breeze he whispers, "I love you too."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves, I’m back.  
> I started Uni now and I have to say it’s really interesting, but the move was stressful and I’m still settling into this new city. Oh, and I’m still without WiFi at home which sucks massively but I guess I’ll live. Somehow.  
> Anyway, I’m sorry for the wait but I hope you understand that I just didn’t have the time (or the internet connection) to publish anything. I did write plenty, though, and I hope you’ll enjoy it all. Happy reading!  
> Hope you’re well wherever you are,  
> Lily x

“Turn right at the next roundabout and then we’re almost there,” I instruct, watching with unconcealed amusement as Harry swallows harshly, his throat bobbing. He’s nervous, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, his other hand that I hold in mine slightly sweaty. He’s been fairly calm on the drive here but the closer we get to our destination the more I can see the nerves creeping back into him and it’s definitely a first. I’ve never seen Harry as nervous as when I told him that my Mum invited me over to Doncaster for a couple of days before football snatches me back up completely, and that she wanted Harry to come along. He just stood there completely at a loss of words, jaw on the floor and wide eyes begging me to save him. He’s got the same look in his eyes now as they flash over to meet mine.

“Why are you so nervous? You already met my Mum.” I wonder, carefully giving his hand an encouraging squeeze. It’s a bit unsettling to see him upset, he’s usually so calm and collected, always in control of the situation.

“Yeah, I’ve met your Mum once, when you were in hospital and she definitely had other things to worry about than me. Visiting her in her own home? That’s something completely different.” Harry explains, glancing at me from the side as he manoeuvres through the roundabout to take the exit I told him to take. He insisted on driving even though I know the way in my sleep, probably to give him at least a bit of his precious control back. “Besides, it’s not only your Mum I’ll be meeting. It’s Dan, too, and your siblings, all of them.” His obvious distress brings a fond smile to my face because if anything, the fact that he worries so much just proves that this is important to him, too. That meeting my family is important, that he wants to make a good impression. And I know he will, because how could anyone not love Harry?

“They’ll love you, Harry. Stop worrying about it.” I assure him, my thumb rubbing gentle circles into the back of his hand.

“You don’t know that, Lou.”

“I do know. They’ll love you, and I do too.” The words still taste foreign on my tongue, my lips not quite used to forming them but it’s getting easier. Ever since I said them for the first time three days ago we only said them a couple of times but each time never failed to bring gigantic smiles onto our faces. This time is no exception, and I watch as the nervousness on Harry’s face is replaced by happiness, his frown melting into a heart-stoppingly beautiful smile. I don’t care that we’re behaving like teenagers with a crush, me hiding a giggle in the back of my hand and Harry grinning like a schoolboy, because I am happy. Happier than I ever thought I’d be.

“I love you, too. Thank you for bringing me, you didn’t have to.” Harry mumbles, eyes shining warmly and with so much compassion that my heart flutters in my chest. I swear I’ll never get tired of hearing him say that he loves me. Never.

“I didn’t have to, but I want to. They’re my family, of course I want you to meet them. They mean a lot to me and so do you, I’m glad my Mum suggested it.” I lean over to brush my lips over his temple, careful not to disturb him too much while he’s driving. I fully intend to introduce him to my family, so landing in a ditch somewhere just outside of Doncaster wouldn’t do us any good. We drive into Doncaster, the familiar sign next to the road signalling that I’m back in my home town. It looks just like it did when I last visited, the same roads framed by the same houses. I give Harry a quick explanation of some buildings we drive past on our way through the city, like the Keepmoat Stadium where I started footie in Doncaster’s kids team, and the pub two streets down where I got really drunk for the first time and threw up in my Mum’s car afterwards.

“I got grounded for two weeks after that,” I admit sourly, still remembering the smell of vomit that just didn’t want to leave the car even days later.

“No way,” Harry laughs, looking around with curious eyes as he drives through my hometown. “Jay is so chilled out, I didn’t take her for someone who’d ground her children.”

“Oh trust me, she’s the most relaxed Mum in the world, but if you ruin her car she’ll forget herself. Lottie once spilled nail polish over one of the backseats, she got grounded too. It smelled bloody awful in the car for weeks.” I smile fondly at the memory of Mum’s horrified face when she saw the pink glitter on the seat, while Lotties face immediately told us that she knew what was coming so she didn’t even try to talk Mum out of it. “She’s used to it by now, I think. Having 7 kids kind of makes it inevitable to get all kinds of substances in your car that don’t necessarily belong there.” I grimace, laughing quietly. “Remind me not to get any substances in your Mum’s car, then. I have a feeling I don’t want to be around Jay when she’s angry,” Harry jokes, much more relaxed now. “Oh, and talking about your siblings. It’s Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy and Phoebe, and Earnest and Doris right?” Harry ratters down the names of my brother and sisters, never hesitating and I distinctly wonder how many nights he spent practising their names.

“Well done, Curly, you did your homework. I’m proud of you.” Teasing, I lean over to kiss Harry’s cheek before grinning smugly. “Nice to know that you know your lines, because we’re here. Turn left here, third house on the right.” Harry’s eyes widen impossibly but he complies immediately, parking smoothly in front of our old house. It’s a house like all the others in the street, and it hasn’t changed one bit ever since I was born. Still the same roses in the front yard, the same red brick and white window frames. It looks cosy, I think proudly, warm and inviting and belonging bubbles through my veins as I take in my childhood home. I consider London home now, but Donny is where I grew up and it will always have a special place in my heart.

“Well, here we are.” I announce, turning around to smile at Harry who lets his eyes travel over the house, taking it all in.

“Looks nice,” he decides, a hesitant smile spreading across his lips and I can’t help but lean across the console to press a firm kiss to his lips because _he’s really here, in Doncaster, with me. Meeting my family._

“Your Mum’s watching from the window,” Harry mumbles against my lips, wry amusement in his voice and I look up to indeed see my Mum standing behind the kitchen window, waving like a maniac. Groaning, I hide my embarrassment in Harry’s neck and he chuckles, lifting his hand to run it through my hair in a soothing motion.

“Let’s go meet her before she has a stroke from all the excited waving,” he suggests dryly and I press another laughed kiss to his lips before nodding.

“Alright. Ready for the trial?”

 

- 

 

It comes as absolutely no surprise that everyone, from my Mum over Dan and Lottie to the twins, totally adores Harry. I watch where he’s sitting on the sofa between Daisy and Phoebe, Doris on his lap, listening intently to Daisy’s story about school today like it’s the most important topic in the world and my heart nearly bursts with all the love that suddenly wells up in it.

“He’s brilliant with them, Lou.” Mum mumbles, stepping up behind me and wrapping me up in her arms. Sighing, I rest my head against her shoulder, relaxing in her familiar embrace.

“Yeah, he is. I told him I love him,” I admit quietly, hearing my Mum gasp audibly. She pulls away from our embrace to look at me with ecstatic eyes, a grin beginning to form on her face.

“And what did he say?”

“He… he loves me too, Mum,” I whisper, my voice wobbling and full of wonder because I still can’t believe it, still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he _loves_ me.

“Oh Loubear, that’s wonderful,” Mum sighs, pulling me into another tight hug and gently rocking me back and forth like she always did when I was little and crying because I scraped my knee. It’s almost unsettling how comforting it still feels, because I’m a grown man, but after the emotional turmoil of the last few weeks a mother’s hug is the best medicine.

“I’m so happy for you,” she whispers into my ear, lifting herself up onto her tippy toes to press a kiss to the top of my head. I let her hold me for another moment, until a tiny yelp coming from the sofa tears us apart. I look up to see Doris’ little hand tangled in Harry’s curls, tugging not all too gently and a disbelieving laugh escapes my lips at the image the two of them make, Doris beyond ecstatic and Harry with a painful grimace on his face, yet he doesn’t move to pull away.

“Go rescue your man,” Mum chuckles and shoves me towards Harry, and I don’t have to be told twice. I hurry over to kneel in front of him, wrapping my hand around Doris’ tiny one and gently untangling her fingers from his curls.

“Hey, little lady, how about you stop that, hm?” I scold her gently, leaning down to kiss her chubby cheek to take the sting from my words. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to pull uncle Harry’s hair.” I add with a sly grin, Harry’s head shooting upwards so I can see the dark sparkle in his eyes.

“Is that so, Mr. Tomlison?” Harry murmurs, peeking up at me through his messed up curls with dark eyes that send a shiver down my spine. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, Harry’s eyes snapping down to watch my mouth, his gaze darkening.

“Hmm,” I hum distractedly, want beginning to bubble up in my stomach but I quickly remind myself that I’m surrounded by my sisters, snogging Harry senseless right here isn’t really an option. So instead of attaching my lips to his I just run my hand up his thigh, feeling is firm muscles underneath my palm, until my hands reach Doris bundled up in his lap. I swirl my fingers over the light dusting of hair on her head before smiling up at Harry, eyes crinkling.

“Do you want me to take her?” I offer, knowing that my siblings can be quite the handful, but Harry just smiles and shakes his head before bending down to press a kiss to Doris’ tiny nose. She crows gleefully, her tiny fists reaching for Harry’s curls again but this time he leans back in time, saving his hair from another attack.

“Not the curls, Miss Doris.” He explains calmly, the little girl watching him with wide, earnest eyes as if she’s truly considering his words. When she pouts, still waving her hands in front of his face, Harry relents and slips one of his long fingers into her tiny hand, giving her something to play with. She smiles gleefully as she begins to poke and examine Harry’s finger, and it’s too much. Watching Harry interact with my baby sister like that, all mushy and adorable with a dopy grin on his face – it’s just too much. My throat tightens, and I’m thankful when my Mum comes over, leaning over the back of the couch to watch us.

“Sorry about the hair pulling, Harry, she just sees curls and goes nuts, I don’t know where she’s got it from. Pulls mine every day, too.” Mum explains, laughing quietly and cooing at her daughter before rubbing her hand over Harry’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Oh, it’s fine Jay, it didn’t really hurt. I was just surprised that such a little lady has so much strength.” He gives my Mum one of his full-megawatt blinding smiles that never fail to take my breath away, and this time it’s no exception. My heart warms at the sight of them, of my family interacting with Harry, and something spreads through my veins that’s entirely too mushy and sentimental. _Love_ , I think happily. _It’s love._

“Talking about strong ladies, Daisy, Phoebe, you have homework to do. Give Harry a break and do your work for school.” Mum orders, fixing the twins with her ‘no-bullshit-I’m-The-Boss’ stare, and with a sigh they push themselves up from the sofa.

“I’ll take them upstairs to make sure they’re actually going to work and not watch telly or anything, might as well check in on Ernest while I’m up,” I offer, needing a break from Harry and family and babies and fuck.

“Hazzy?” Daisy quietly pipes up, watching Harry with wide, awestruck eyes. I suppose I look the same when I look at him, I realise with a start, my cheeks beginning to heat. “Yeah, Daisy?” And how on earth he can already tell them apart is a mystery to me, but Daisy just beams and steps closer to him, her knees brushing his.

“You said no curls for Doris, but I’m good at braiding. Can I – I mean, would you maybe let me braid them later?” she whispers, peeking up at Harry through her bangs with hopeful, wide eyes and Harry never stood a chance. “I promise not to pull too hard,” she adds cheekily, grinning sweetly, and Harry’s eyes slip up to meet mine for a second before he focuses back on Daisy and nods hesitantly.

“Oh, uh, okay. Yeah, sure. You can braid them later, when you’ve done your homework, alright?” he offers, poking her nose with his free hand and she squeals, delighted. Both of the twins dart up the stairs as Mum barks out a laugh, watching Harry with a fond shake of her head.

“You just got yourself into big trouble, Styles,” I warn smugly, smirking at him but he just shrugs, wide eyes innocent.

“I just couldn’t say no to those eyes, could I?” he sighs helplessly, prompting another laugh from my Mum and I just cannot. Leaning forwards I brush a soft kiss against his temple, my hand smoothing some loose curls away from his forehead.

“I’ll get Ernest, then we can play with them both,” I straighten up, catching my Mum’s warm smile before I walk past her towards the stairs. She gently squeezes my shoulder, smuggling a wink in my direction before I head upstairs to fetch my little brother. Both of the baby twins are reasonably quiet, happily playing with some stuffed toys on the ground and babbling words nobody understands yet, and my heart expands just watching the two youngest members of my family.

“They’re so cute,” Harry coos, bending down to hand Ernest the stuffed bumblebee that fell from his grasp but he shoves the toy away and instead reaches for Harry, indicating that he wants to be picked up. Harry obliges immediately, tucking the small body against his chest and cooing nonsense at him. How the hell my heart is supposed to survive this, I don’t know.

“They seem tired, wanna see if we can put them to bed?” I suggest, desperately hoping to get some alone time with Harry because fuck it’s hot to see him with babies and Harry agrees easily, keeping Ernest in his arms as he stands up to follow me and Doris to their bedroom. We put the twins in their cribs and tuck them in, and Doris passes out like a light immediately with her thumb sucked into her mouth. Ernest doesn’t fall asleep right away so I run my fingers through the sparse hair on his head for a while, mumbling soothing nonsense until he too, luckily, drifts off to sleep again. I bend down to kiss his sleep-warm cheek and pull the blanket tighter around him before straightening up and turning towards Harry. He watches me with an unreadable expression, eyes wide and full of wonder, his lips curved upwards in a small, secretive smile.

“What’s that look for?” My voice comes out more breathless than I thought it would and Harry chuckles bashfully, his glance going to the floor for a moment before he looks back up.

“You’re so good with them.” I smile, casting one last glance at the two sleeping figures bathed in the dim afternoon light that falls through the windows.

“I love children,” I explain easily, because really, it is easy. I grew up with many young siblings, not loving them was never an option. Kids just bring out a soft side in me that people hardly ever see, and I’d really like to keep it that way. But somehow I don’t mind Harry seeing this side, not at all. Especially not with the way he’s still looking at me. “

I do, too,” he admits, his lips barely moving to form the words because of that wide smile that spreads across his lips. Something heavy settles into my chest, a sharp longing that I can’t quite place, and I can’t help but smile back at him in return until my cheeks almost ache with it.

“Good,” I breathe, subconsciously stepping towards him and then he’s there, in my space and my arms automatically loop around his neck to pull him down to me. Tilting my head I slot our lips together in a long, soft suck, Harry’s tongue barely teasing into my mouth. We part with a slurping sound, giggles interrupting the peaceful silence in the room and then he winds his arms around my waist, pulling me into him again. His lips move against mine with such warmth, teeth gently nibbling on my bottom lip as I melt against him and into his broad chest. I try, really try not to think about how we’re kissing in a nursery and about what it could mean in the future, in _our_ future, because I don’t think my heart could handle it.

-

 

As promised, Daisy doesn’t pull Harry’s hair like Doris did, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s a lot gentler than her baby sister, if the way Harry squints his eyes every now and then is something to go by. He doesn’t complain, though, just stoically endures her brushing his hair and attempting some braid around the side of his head while giving her brave smiles whenever he catches her eye. I sit on the sofa on his other side, playing scrabble with Fizzy and my Mum while Phoebe watches Daisy’s work with jealous eyes, commenting on it every now and then. Lottie is upstairs, doing some teenager things I suppose.

The front door opens to reveal Dan in his suit from work, a warm smile spreading across his face as he takes in the family gathering in the living room. I don’t know Dan too well since he got in the picture after I moved out but he seems like a decent guy and I never had any problems with him. Mum jumps up from the sofa to greet him with a kiss, followed by the twins and Harry uses the distraction to shoot me a horrified glance. I can’t help but laugh at his expression, half of his curls tamed in a more or less artful braid, the rest hanging loosely over his shoulders. He looks absolutely ridiculous with his hair like that, but all I feel when I look at him is lovelovelove because fuck, what man in his twenties would let a little girl braid his hair? I just shoot Harry a playful wink before standing up as well, whispering a

“Suck it up, Styles,” into his ear as I pass him to shake Dan’s hand.

“Louis, good to see you again. How’s life?”

“All good Dan, all good. This is Harry,” I introduce Harry who is now standing next to me in all his tall glory, towering over all of us, even Dan. He’s standing up straight, trying to keep up as much of his dignity as he can with his hair in a braid.

“Ah, Harry. It’s so good to meet you.” Dan greets him warmly, shaking Harry’s offered hand, and then breaks out into a laugh, eyeing Harry’s hair. Harry bashfully runs his hand over the braids, an embarrassed laugh escaping his lips.

“Uh, likewise. It’s not exactly a perfect moment to be meeting you, though, but…” Harry shrugs apologetically, smiling down at Daisy who grins like the cat that got the cream, and Dan bends down to ruffle through her hair with a grin on his face.

“It’s okay, Harry, I know what they’re like, little monsters,” Dan laughs, patting Harry on the back. “I’m just happy my hair is too short for any of the twins’ shenanigans.”

 

When Dan comes back into the living room, now changed into a loose shirt and jeans, we all decide to play another round of scrabble. It’s the cheesiest, most cliché family afternoon but I absolutely, completely love it, especially with Doris on my lap watching the game with round, curious eyes and Harry by my side, sitting so close that our thighs are pressed together.

“Does anyone want a slice of cake? I made carrot cake,” Mum announces and I groan out loud in delight, turning to face Harry.

“You need to try it, Curly. This cake is _life_ ,” I promise, nudging his knee with mine to emphasize my words. Harry smiles, his eyes flickering down to our legs where I run my foot over his ankle, rubbing gently.

“If you say so. Guess I have no choice then,” he teases, and I give him a thumbs up before transferring Doris onto his lap and standing up.

“Good choice, I’ll get you a slice.” Bending down, I press a quick kiss to his cheek, surprising him with my open display of affection in front of my family but honestly, they’re the people I trust the most. If I feel comfortable enough to be affectionate with him in front of anyone, then it has to be my family. I look around the room, sending my Mum a wink in response to her beaming smile, and ask,

“Anyone else?” Countless hands rise into the air and I laugh, shaking my head at my family. “Guess I’ll just bring the entire cake then.”

 

I walk back into the room with a stack of small plates in my hand but pause in the doorway, my heart expanding at the sight in front of me. My Mum and Dan, with his hand stroking back and forth across her knee, Lottie and Fizzy chuckling at something on Lottie’s phone, the twins bickering playfully, Ernest fast asleep in the crib next to the sofa and Harry still holding Doris in his lap, letting her play with his long fingers as he chats to my Mum, all nervousness now gone. It’s peaceful, just a proper family spending the afternoon together and it hits me so hard to see how Harry _fits_ that I nearly drop the plates. My siblings clearly adore him and so does my Mum, if the warm smile on her face is anything to go by. Even Dan is hanging on Harry’s every word, watching him fondly. My heart thuds loudly in my chest and warmth shoots through my entire body as I watch Harry interact with the people that mean the most to me. It’s so wonderful to see how they all seem to accept him without questions, it’s like he’s always been a part of us. I let my eyes wander across the room but they don’t stay away from Harry for long, nothing and no one else in the room attracts my attention like he does. I snap my gaze back to him in time to see him pull a face at Doris who squeals in glee and reaches for Harry’s curls again. Jesus, she’s worse than me, I think to myself, chuckling quietly.

I watch Harry for a while longer, his shoulders relaxed and his smile open as he chats to Mum, and it makes my heart ache in the best way possible to see how relaxed he is around my family. He’s far from the man I usually know, this Harry. He’s warmer, gentler, like the kids turn him into a big pile of human mush, letting them play with his hair and sit on his lap. He’s like that, too, when we’re alone, hidden away in the safety of my house. When we’re alone, the reserved, alert look in his eyes melts into something softer, the frown replaced by smiles. Outside he automatically slips into his bodyguard mode, with cold assessing eyes and his back straightened to make him appear taller. He’s intimidating then, a force to be reckoned with. I think back to the first night he picked me up from that club when I nearly got robbed and he saved, and how he sent a grown man to the floor with just one well-placed punch. He’s dangerous, I know that, but I never ever felt afraid around him. Quite the opposite, actually, because I never feel as safe as when he is with me. I know how gentle and loving he can be, and it amazes me how hands that can easily beat grown men into pulps can trace such soft patterns into my skin, the touch gentle like a butterfly’s wings.

He’s like that now, too, gentle and warm and kind as he continues to make Doris smile, and I know that Harry would never hurt anyone in my family. He’d never hurt people on purpose, not if he doesn’t have to. And seeing him now, with my little sisters, really puts it into place for me how amazing he is. He’s strong, not just physically but also mentally, he’s caring and loving and always puts other people first. He’s perfect, and he loves me. I shake my head at that thought, still unable to comprehend that this wonderful man loves me. What did I do to deserve him? An unbidden image pops up in my head, Harry sitting on the porch bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, little curly haired boys and girls in football gear running around him, some with green eyes and some with blue eyes – and no, I immediately stop my thoughts right there. I only just admitted that I love him, I absolutely cannot and will not have these thoughts right now, no matter how much my heart warms at the images.

 

 

“Louis? Do you want to stand in the doorway forever? Because I’d like to actually eat my cake today, thank you very much.” Lottie teases, snapping me out of my haze and I blush as all eyes land on me, knowing that I just got caught staring at Harry for minutes like the biggest creep.

“I, uh, sorry. I got distracted.” I mumble and hastily stumble into the room to set the plates down on the table, not meeting Harry’s eyes though I can feel his gaze on me. I bet my cheeks are bright red and quite frankly, I still haven’t recovered fully from those images in my head.

“I wonder by who…” Fizzy whispers loud enough for everyone to hear and I gasp, my cheeks heating further as everyone around me laughs. My eyes involuntarily snap up to meet Harry’s and he just sends me a wink before he goes back to playing with Doris, a knowing smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.

-

To say that my Mum is over the moon when Harry offers to help in kitchen is probably the understatement of the year, and even Dan seems to be impressed by the pumpkin-vegetable-soup the two of them create. I offer to wash the dishes as my siblings disappear to their own rooms, seemingly having had enough of family day. I can’t blame them, when I was their age I found them beyond annoying, too. Harry and my Mum stay in the living room, chatting, and the silence settling over the house is interrupted by Mums loud cackle and Harry’s softer chuckles, making me smile into a pot I’m drying like the fond sappy idiot I have become. After a while, Mum strolls into the kitchen and before I can wonder where she left Harry she wraps me into a tight hug, squeezing me gently.

“He’s wonderful, Lou.” She announces when she pulls back, keeping her hands on my shoulders as she smiles up at me with a smile so wide it almost looks painful. I nod, feeling the same smile spread across my face as well.

“Yeah, he is.” I agree quietly, continuing to wash the dishes as my Mum leans against the counter next to me.

“You two are so adorable together, it’s obvious how much you care about each other.” “

I love him, Mum,” I remind her quietly, still busying myself with the pots and plates to hide my unease at the topic. I still can’t wrap my head around it, that I love him and he loves me. _To be loved and to be in love._

“And he loves you, it’s obvious. He’s never not watching you, always checking if you’re okay. You’re like magnets, if you move so does he. You shift on the sofa, and a second later he does, too. You fit, it’s wonderful to see you so happy. He makes you shine.” She whispers emotionally, her hand cupping my chin so she can lean up and press a kiss to my cheek. “Keep him, Lou. Don’t let him go, he’s so good for you.” “

I don’t ever want to let him go,” I admit, unable to look my Mum in the eyes as I do so I instead study the tiles on the kitchen floor, they’re the same reddish brown that they’ve always been.

“Have you worked through your issues then?” Mum asks carefully, her voice so gentle and concerned that I find myself telling her everything, about the rumours and my fears that he’d leave but then didn’t, about his admission that he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to, about the I-love-you’s we exchanged eventually. (For my Mum’s sake I leave out that we were in the middle of fucking in a club’s bathroom, I don’t think she’d appreciate that piece of information.) She listens intently, her hand curled around my shoulder where she gently thumbs over my skin in calming motions.

“He promised not to leave, and I really hope he means it. I don’t…I don’t think I could stand it if he lied.” I conclude, my eyes snapping up to meet my Mum’s gentle ones. She pulls me into another hug and I bury my head in her hair, letting her comfort me as the last remains of my fear linger.

“He didn’t lie, Lou. I know he didn’t.”

“How can you be so sure, Mum?” I wonder, pulling away from our embrace to study her face. What does she know that I don’t? She just smiles, that knowing, ‘I am a mother I know everything’ smile, and squeezes my waist encouragingly.

“I saw how he looks at you, Louis.” Seeing my confused glance, she adds, “He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, like you’re the only thing that matters.” And, oh. Does he really look at me like that? I swallow around the giant lump that has suddenly started to form in my throat, my mouth opening and closing with no words coming out as I feverishly search for something to say. _He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky_.

“No, Mum, you got that wrong. He – he’s the one that puts the stars in the sky. No, scratch that. He’s an entire galaxy by himself.” And I just hope that I don’t get lost in a black hole. Because yes, he’s a galaxy, but compared to him I am nothing but a distant star that twinkles faintly while he glows with the power of the sun. Mum just smiles knowingly, her hand coming up to brush over my cheek.

“That’s love, sweetheart. Love will make you look at another person like that, like they’re a galaxy. He’s yours and you’re his. Don’t ever doubt that. Besides,” Mum clears her throat, an amused smile now playing with the corners of her mouth, “he can cook, so you better keep him because we both know you can’t cook for shit.” I laugh out loud at her choice of words, the tension of our conversation leaving my body along with the sound.

With the kitchen all cleaned up I follow Mum into the living room where Harry is waiting, his hair now pulled up in a bun, and my heart leaps at the sight of him. His eyes immediately find mine, a warm smile forming on his lips that mirrors my own and I can’t help but wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see a galaxy, too? I find it hard to believe. But his eyes burn like molten emerald as they lock with mine and for a moment I let them lead me to believe that we’re both galaxies, crashing into each other to create a new universe.

Harry stands up from his spot on the sofa when we reach him and immediately wraps his hand around my waist, pulling me into his body to erase the distance between us. I cuddle into his side, my hand slipping under the soft cotton of his plain t-shirt to trail patterns into the warm skin covering his stomach. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Mum smiling fondly at the motion but I deliberately ignore it and instead focus on Harry.

“Thanks for making dinner, Chef. Was brilliant.” I compliment, smiling up at him through my messy fringe. He automatically lifts his head to brush it away from my face like he always does, the movement already like second nature to him. I watch with unconcealed amusement as his eyes snap over to where my Mum is still standing, a blush beginning to cover his cheeks as he realises that she can see our little loving exchange and I can’t help but laugh at his embarrassment. Deciding to tease him further I place my socked feet on top of his and push myself up, clinging to his waist for support so I can plant a firm kiss onto his lips. He doesn’t pull away but hums into the kiss, surprised, and I laugh against his lips before pulling away with a wink. I love teasing him a little, and honestly, a chaste kiss in front of my Mum who just told me that she wants me to keep him at all costs? No biggie. In fact, I find that I really like showing everyone that he is mine, a possessive side that I never knew I had beginning to push its way through me. My Mum doesn’t seem to mind, either, because she bluntly announces,

“Since I know for a fact that you don’t need separate rooms” – she pauses to wink at Harry, whose face has gone so red that I honestly fear for his health – “I prepared our guest room for you instead of Lou’s old room, the bed in there is definitely too small for two people.” I laugh out loud, delighted that my Mum so clearly supports our relationship and sex life, she did see us sleep in the same bed in the hospital after all so I suppose she figured out that it wasn’t our first time. Harry looks absolutely mortified as he stares at my Mum, his eyes and mouth wide open, and I decide to be merciful for once.

“Thanks Mum, guess we’ll go upstairs then.” I press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him along behind me. It seems to snap him out of his trance, and he manages to mutter a distressed

“Thanks, Jay, have a good night” over his shoulder before I pull him up the stairs, my Mum’s smug laughter the last thing that reaches my ear before I pull the door shut behind us.

 

“Now that was interesting,” I grin as Harry plops down on the bed next to me with a groan, his hands coming up to his face to hide his still flushed cheeks.

“Bloody hell that was embarrassing.” With a sigh he falls backwards onto the mattress and I immediately follow him so I’m straddling his legs, our torsos aligned. Grinning, I pry his hands away from his face and pin them down on the mattress before leaning up to peck his nose.

“No it wasn’t, my Mum’s cool. She’s fun and sassy and mischievous, I must’ve gotten that from somewhere after all.” I explain, trying to ease his discomfort but he just grimaces and lets his head drop onto the pillow, his eyes closed.

“But your Mum knows we’re having sex, Louis. And your stepdad caught me with braids in my hair. Could I have made more of a tit of myself?” And wait, he’s actually serious. Does he honestly not see that every single person in this house is completely in love with him? “Meeting your family was so important to me, Lou, because it’s your _family_ and I…” I shut him up with a kiss, my hands releasing his wrists to push myself up on his chest so I can reach his mouth. He makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat but doesn’t pull away, instead wraps his now free hands around my hips and pulls me closer to him.

“Harry, you’re wrong,” I start, gently stroking a loose curl out of his face so I can look him in the eye, I need him to see that I am absolutely serious. “You’re so, so wrong it’s almost funny.” I laugh quietly, Harry’s face settling into a frown as he watches me expectantly, his hands distractedly playing with the hem of my shirt. “You did not make a tit of yourself, absolutely not. You totally charmed the pants off every person in this house. My siblings adore you, all of them, and so does Dan. He was so impressed that you let Daisy braid your hair, because honestly, what grown man lets an 11 year old girl do that to him? You’re amazing with kids, no matter if they’re 7 months old or 17 years, they love you. And my Mum?” I smile at the memory of our talk in the kitchen, and I know that she absolutely, heartily approves of Harry. 100%. I lower my hand to run my fingers over the light stubble covering his jaw, my lips pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before I continue, my hand still stroking over his jaw.

“She honestly adores you. I think she has from the moment she met you in hospital, you completely charmed the pants off of her you minx. You know what she said in the kitchen earlier, when we washed the dishes?” Harry shakes his head no, and I notice with relief that most of the horror in his eyes has turned into hopeful disbelief.

“She told me that you’re wonderful, that we’re like magnets, always moving as soon as the other does. She said we fit, that we’re adorable together, and you know what else she said?” I smile fondly, sucking his plump bottom lip into my mouth for a moment and repeating the process with his top lip before planting my lips on both of them in a quick but firm kiss. Harry watches me intently with wide eyes, his hands tightening on my hips. “She told me to keep you. To never let you go,” I breathe, my hands cradling his face as I bend down to kiss him again. “And I promised her I wouldn’t.” I whisper against his lips, feeling his mouth curve into a smile underneath mine. “Because I love you.”

Groaning, Harry moves his hands from my hips up to my waist, pushing my shirt up to reveal my stomach, and pulls me up his body so our hips align.

“Fuck, Lou, I love you,” he moans into my neck, his lips sucking a rough bite into my collarbone before traveling up to my jaw, sucking and biting as they go. “So, so much,” he pants, kissing the words into my heated skin. A soft whimper falls from my lips and my hips automatically tilt down to press against his, my hardening cock desperately searching for friction. I grind my hips down once, twice, a breathless moan escaping at the sensation, and then Harry freezes.

“Lou,” he starts, his swollen, deep red lips moving to form my name and fuck, it’s the hottest thing.

“Shit, your lips,” I groan before attaching my mouth to his in a rough suck, my teeth digging into his deliciously plump bottom lip. Harry tries to pull away again but I twist my hands into his hair and pull him into me again, my body absolutely, completely desperate. Seeing Harry being so wonderful with my family all day just makes me want him even more, the image of him with small kids driving my desire for him to levels it’s never reached before. A loud grunt falls from his lips, the sound so guttural and raw that I fear I hurt him, but then I feel his cock twitch against mine and oh. Interesting. I pull his hair again, just as roughly as before, yanking his head away from mine to look at his face. What I see completely takes my breath away. He looks absolutely wrecked already, kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks, his eyes glazed over and drooping with pleasure. Holy fuck. Looks like someone likes it rough.

“You have no idea how happy I am that Daisy isn’t strong enough to pull your hair that hard if it gets you going like this,” I smirk, grinding my hips down into his rock hard erection to prove my point. Harry grins boyishly, without any doubt ready to come up with a cheeky reply when his eyes suddenly widen.

“Lou, we can’t have sex, not here. Not when your family is all around,” he warns, regret in his voice but I can tell he’s dead serious. I want to argue, but I know he’s right. I honestly don’t want my family to hear us have sex either, especially not my siblings. But I want him, desperately.

“I know. But I want you,” I whine, attaching my lips to his neck to try and seduce him, but it doesn’t seem to be working. He gently wraps his hand around my neck to pull my head away from his skin, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Louis, I’m serious. I’m not having sex with you in your family home, that’s just wrong.” I sigh, resting my head against his chest in defeat.

“But I really want to have sex with you.” I pout, blinking up at him through my lashes and Harry laughs, running his hand over his face. He’s torn, I can tell, but there’s a determination in his eyes that tells me if I don’t come up with a good plan I have no chance of getting laid tonight. Damn Harry and his good intentions. I trail one of my fingers over his chest, drawing mindless patterns into his shirt-covered skin as I try to come up with something pleasurable that isn’t necessarily ‘sex’.

“But what if…” I start, keeping my eyes on the movement of my finger on his chest, “there’s a way to have some fun without really having sex?” Harry expectantly rises his eyebrows at me, his hands around my waist still keeping me in place on top of him and I take it as a good sign, he hasn’t pushed me off of him yet.

“I’m not going to blow you, either, Lou, you horny nut,” he warns playfully, one of his hands reaching around to gently smack me on the bum. I grin, leaning down to run my nose along his before pecking his lips.

“I know. And I’m not the only one who is horny here,” I smirk, grinding down against his hips where he is still half hard, resting heavily against my thigh. Harry gasps, his hips involuntarily lifting upwards to meet mine, and hmm. This definitely has potential. I rotate my hips against his, building up just enough friction to make us desperate but not enough for relief.

“Can we just,” I run my nose from the junction of his neck to his ear, and fuck me he smells so good. “Can we – oh god you smell so good,” I groan, the words muffled by the skin on his neck. “Can we please just do this? Until we come in our boxers, like proper teenagers? Won’t get the sheets dirty,” I suggest and press my lips to his harder, giving him a taste of what is about to come. I feel his hands tighten on my hips and smile in triumph, a gust of air hitting my neck as he exhales sharply.

“Please? Promise I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good for you, just, please?” I beg, rocking my hips faster when I feel him growing fully hard beneath me. I risk a glance up at him, and our eyes meet for a moment before he leans down and smashes his mouth against mine almost bruisingly hard. He pries my lips open with his tongue, taking total possession of my mouth at the same time as his hands slide down my body to cup my bum, pressing me closer to his body with every thrust.

“Fuck, yes, okay,” he whispers into my ear, slipping one of his hands beneath the material of my sweatpants to caress my bum through my boxers, the movement of his hand bringing our throbbing erections together in just the right way. I moan, unable to contain myself and Harry stills, his hand moving to give me another light slap on the arse.

“Be quiet, baby,” he orders, his voice full of lust and even deeper than usual. “Can you do that for me?” I nod desperately, needing him to go on.

“I promise,” I hurry to assure him and he regards me for another moment before attacking my mouth again. Our hips meet feverishly, rubbing together in just the right way and I gasp, my body tumbling forwards into his broad chest so our bodies align completely, all the space between us erased. Harry’s arms wrap around my shoulders, crushing me to him as his hips move upwards in a particularly strong thrust. Groaning, I turn my head to the left and dig my teeth into the soft skin on the inside of his arm, biting to keep myself from moaning out loud.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry breathes into my ear, his voice strained with the effort of being quiet, and I smirk into his skin before wrapping one of my hands into his hair again, pulling roughly.

“Lou…Louis, no, fuck, I –” Harry’s thrusts become sloppy, less precise, and as his legs tense beneath mine I know that he’s close. Fucking hell, he really likes it rough, I think to myself and grin widely before attaching my lips to his arm again, biting into the already sensitive skin and Harry’s hips stutter, his mouth falling open against my neck.

“God, Louis don’t, I don’t want – I can’t –” Harry protests weakly, the words getting lost in a high whine as I thrust my hips up sharply, immensely enjoying having such control over him.

“Let go, Harry, c’mon…” I urge him on, knowing full well that he’s usually a firm believer in making his partner come first, but that was before we fell in love, when I was inexperienced and he had to take control of the situation. Now, I want nothing more than to make him fall apart, and I think I know exactly how to do it. I tug at his curls again, my teeth biting into the already reddened skin on his arm, my hips thrusting upwards into his at the same time and Harry stills completely, his body going stiff as a rock before he shudders violently, his sweaty forehead falling against my shoulder as he comes hard into his boxers, his low groan making my body shiver. I thrust a few times more but it doesn’t take long for me to reach my own release, the knowledge that I made him fall apart before me edging me on and I shatter into a thousand pieces, my body going limp against his as I, too, reach my high. We lie there, panting, for a while and I lazily turn my head to press my lips against the bite mark my teeth left on his upper arm, trying to soothe the reddened skin. It looks painful, but when I look up I see Harry smiling down at me with tired eyes, a sated smile on his face.

“You really like it rough, don’t you?” I laugh, lifting my head to press a soft kiss to his jawline, my hands moving up to gently massage his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles.

“I had no idea,” Harry chuckles weakly, his hands resting limply on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, still totally boneless.

“Well, as hard as you just came I think it’s safe to say we discovered a new kink,” I joke, laughing when Harry groans in embarrassment. “

We’re filthy, we should get cleaned up,” he suggests in a not so subtle change of topic and I want to call him out on it, but of course he’s right. We are filthy, all sticky stained boxers, and with a last kiss to his cheek I lift myself off of him. Grimacing, Harry stares down at the stain on his boxers before shrugging and grinning up at me.

“Well, at least the sheets are clean.” I grab a fresh pair of boxers from my bed and head to the bathroom, checking the hallway first to make sure that it’s empty. I don’t necessarily want to run into my Mum or one of my older sisters with cum covering the front of my boxers. That would be a different kind of movie. Luckily no one seems to be around so I hurry into the bathroom, and a few seconds later the door opens again, Harry slipping inside. We quickly clean ourselves up before slipping on fresh boxers and brushing our teeth. I let my eyes travel over Harry’s body, his abs and muscled, toned arms and try really hard not to choke on my toothpaste at the side of him. A wide grin stretches across my lips when I spot the giant bite mark on his arm. In the bright light of the bathroom it looks deep purple, teeth marks clearly visible on his skin and I giggle, toothpaste dribbling unattractively down my skin. I hastily try to wipe it away but Harry just smiles, his own mouth full of the foamy, white paste.

“Ywa chud weae ah lon schlewd schiwd domowwoh,” I suggest, pointing at his arm and Harry turns to face me, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Whah?” he questions around the toothpaste in his mouth, foamy bubbles coming out of his mouth and I burst into a fit of laughter, bending over the sink to spit out the toothpaste before I choke on it.

“I said you should wear a long sleeved shirt tomorrow,” I explain with a smug grin, nudging my chin in the direction of the mark on his arm. Grinning, Harry bends over the sink next to me to spit out his toothpaste as well before washing his face and hip-checking me out of the way so he can grab a towel.

“I suppose I should,” he amends, carefully poking at the irritated skin.

“Hurts?” I question, unable to keep the smugness out of my voice and Harry grins, pressing a smooching kiss to my cheek before announcing,

“In the best way.”

 

-

 

I’m cold, my sleepy body realises. I turn around in bed and snuggle backwards, expecting to be met with Harry’s warmth but instead my back hits the cold wall. Frowning, I sit up to discover that I am indeed alone. A quick check of my phone tells me that it’s two in the morning and I sit up in sleepy confusion, only to discover that Harry is not even in the room. I notice that his joggers are missing, too, they’re not hanging over the back of the chair where he left them earlier, so I quickly slip into some sweatpants, socks and a hoodie and head downstairs.

I look around in the living room and the kitchen, expecting him to be sitting there with a cup of tea in front of him only to find both rooms empty, too. Frowning, I step into the hallway and nearly leap ten feet in the air when I spot the dark shadow sitting on the steps that lead up to our front door. What the fuck is he doing out there at two in the morning? And he’s not wearing a jacket, either, I realise, angry that he neglects his health, and head back into the living room to grab a blanket before carefully pushing the front door open.

The night is cold; crisp, quiet air making me shiver, a cloudless sky expanding above us. Harry doesn’t look up at my approach but I know he heard me, because he doesn’t flinch when I sit down on the step above him and drape the blanket around both of us. I wrap my arms around his chest from behind and lean my head against his back, pressing soft kisses to the exposed skin of his neck.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I wonder, my voice quiet to not disturb the silence around us. Harry sighs before leaning his head back against my shoulder, tilting it slightly to the left to press his lips to my temple. He reaches for my hands that are clasped over his chest, his fingers nervously playing with mine and I let him, knowing that he’s searching for the right words to tell me what’s bothering him so I wait patiently, hoping that the warmth of my body pressed against his is enough of a reassurance to get him to speak. Apparently, it is.

“You’ve got a wonderful family here, Lou. You’re all so close, it’s a joy to see.” Harry smiles wistfully, his gaze set on the stars above us, a distant look in his eyes that tells me that his mind is miles away. I wonder what it is that he sees in his head, which memories cause him to sit on the porch freezing at two in the morning.

“You’re a part of this family now,” I remind him gently, hoping that it will comfort him to know that even if his own family fell apart he now has people that consider him a part of their family. I feel his small smile against my temple, but it falls quickly.

“My family used to be like that. It wasn’t quite as big as yours, just my parents, Gemma and me, but we were so close. Even after Gemma had moved out for work and I moved to Cambridge for Uni, we met up every second weekend for family time. Some people at Uni made fun of me for going back to my parent’s place every other week but I loved my family, they were everything to me.” Harry sighs and the sadness in his voice tugs sharply at my heart, threatening to tear it apart. I don’t say anything, just let him talk as I hold him tight, squeezing him against my chest to try and hold him together.

“Now Gemma is dead, my parents are divorced and I haven’t seen them for four years.” Harry states, his voice flat and controlled but I can feel his body shiver at the confession, so I hold him just a bit tighter and lean down until I can press my lips to his cheek, letting them linger against his cold skin until the trembling of his body stops.

“How did it happen?” I whisper against his cheek, my hands squeezing his encouragingly to show him that he’s not alone, that I’m right here with him.

“It happened in a club. There were these men, and they…” Harry flinches at the memory, and I understand that he is unable to go on so I don’t push him. I know that there’s more to it, can see it in the hesitant look in his eyes but I don’t need to know, not now. Instead I kiss his forehead, over and over again while holding him close, whispering how sorry I am between the kisses and hoping that somehow, it’s enough to strengthen him. I ponder over his words, and something hits me with a sickening jolt. He said it happened in a club.

“Is that why you don’t like clubbing?” Harry nods weakly, not meeting my eyes and I gasp, remembering the first night he picked me up from a club, and the second time when I was with Liam, then when I went with my mates not long ago, during our holiday in South Africa – his sister died in a club and yet he went to countless clubs with me without ever complaining.

“My god, Harry, I love you so much.” The words tumble out of my mouth emotionally as it hits me what he did for me, and my heart expands and expands until there is no space left in my chest for anything but him. I untangle one of my hands from his to gently hook my fingers under his chin, tipping his head up so he has to look at me and I can see it in his eyes, he knows that I understood. He knows that I realised what he did for me, and it overwhelms me completely. My free hand trembles in his and Harry grasps it tighter, stopping the shiver.

“I love you so, so much.” I promise him in a raw voice, my body automatically bending down until I can capture his lips with my own. We both melt into the kiss, Harry’s body twisting so he can face me fully, his hands coming to rest on my hips to pull me into him.

“And I love you, Lou,” he whispers against my lips, his voice breaking at the end and I swallow harshly, willing myself not to cry. Trying to keep the tears at bay I snap my eyes shut, my forehead resting against his and we just breathe, together, enjoying the warmth of our bodies pressed together. Eventually, Harry pulls away to turn around so his back is to me again and I pull him into my chest, tightening the blanket around us. I bury my nose in his hair, pressing soft kisses to the back of his head, and, looking up at the stars, I whisper,

“You’re my galaxy.” Frowning, Harry casts me a confused glance over his shoulder but I just chuckle and lean down to kiss him again, tilting my head to the right so our lips can slot together in a soft suck. Earlier, I had my doubt whether he feels the same, but after what he just told me I know it, I know that my Mum was right. He is my galaxy, and I am his.

 

*

 

When I come back home from Doncaster it becomes clear that the peaceful days I had up there were the last ones of that kind for a while. We had a wonderful time with my family, taking the twins out for a walk in the forest, sneaking in kisses against a tree when they were busy playing footie on the meadow behind the forest, and Harry smelled like trees and grass and freedom all day. He was much more relaxed around my family the next day, joking with Dan and teaching my Mum some recipes, letting Fizzy show him pictures of her art project for school and cuddling the baby twins to sleep. Everyone in my family was sad to see him leave but we promised we’d come back soon.

 

Sighing, I lean against the cold tiles in our locker room and let my thoughts wander back to our weekend, blocking out our coach’s voice as he gives us instructions for the upcoming game against Manchester tomorrow. It’s an important game, since they are currently the ones holding the top spot in the premier league, a spot that we want to take from them. The game on Saturday could either switch our positions around or give them an even bigger head start on us. We’d have to win both of the games after that and hope that they lose at least one of theirs, which is highly unlikely. So, basically, if we win this game tomorrow the top spot is pretty much ours, if we lose then we’re stuck on the second spot.

The tension in the room is palpable, the air so thick that you could cut it with a knife. I look around, taking in the determined faces of my teammates and my heart thuds painfully in my chest. To say that I’m nervous is the biggest understatement of the year, because it’s not only the most important game of the season but also my first game since the injury, and I know that a lot of eyes will be set on me tomorrow to see if I’ve recovered completely after four weeks of not playing, or if the injury threw me off balance. The pressure resting on me becomes almost too much, so I let my thoughts take me to a happier place as our coach analyses Manchester’s strategy.

 

-

 

“Louis? Can I speak to you for a moment?” Tom catches me just before I head outside, changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. I groan inwardly, wanting nothing more than to go home, take a shower and crawl into bed with Harry to hopefully get some sleep. But he’s my manager, and as much as we banter and mock each other I can’t forget that he’s technically still my boss.

“Yeah, sure. What gives?” Tom leads me into his office and the sick feeling in my stomach intensifies as I sink into the soft leather of the chair at his desk. Tom sits down opposite me, resting his chin on his folded hands and studying me with serious eyes.

“The game tomorrow, Louis. We need to win this.” He announces without any preamble and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know that. Everyone knows that.

“I know, Tom. The team is prepared.” I assure him, though I know that it’s a lie. I saw the tension in everyone’s faces, the worry in their eyes and from the look on Tom’s face he saw it to.

“Really? Because the last four games were shit, Louis. We lost one of them, one tie and we barely won the other two, but that was pure luck. Maybe the team just had an unlucky streak. Maybe it was because you weren’t there.” He regards me thoughtfully and I swallow harshly, already knowing where he is going with this.

“Tom…” I start, but he interrupts me with a sharp shake of his head.

“You have to win the game for us tomorrow, Louis. The coach said you seemed fully recovered during training, is that true?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have any problems so far but…” I start, panic pitching my voice, “you can’t expect me to win this game all by myself. I… I haven’t played in a month Tom, I don’t know if I can… you know…” I trail off, the weight on my shoulders intensifying, threatening to break me.

“You can, I know you can. You’re one of our best, and most importantly, you bring structure into the team. You have to lead them to victory tomorrow, otherwise we have no chance of winning the Premier League this year.” It’s flattering, really, how much Tom believes in me but at the same time it sends a current of panic through my body, a panic that begins to bubble inside my chest, threatening to surface any moment. _You have to win the game for us._

“I’ll try my best,” I promise, my voice tight, strained.

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear.” Tom smiles, his hand landing on my shoulder to give it an encouraging squeeze. “See you tomorrow, then.”

 

-

 

I tighten my grip on the cup of tea in my hand, Tom’s words echoing through my head again and again. _You have to win the game for us._ I don’t know if I can. Manchester is a true challenge and Tom was right, our team has been shit lately. But how can he expect me to turn all that around? All by myself, when I’ve barely recovered from an accident? Sighing, I take another sip of my almost cold tea and my eyes fall on the clock beneath the TV. It’s half past one in the morning and I’ve been sitting here for more than half an hour now, unable to sleep with all the thoughts racing through my mind, all the expectations building up on top of my head. Sighing, I lean my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes, willing myself to relax but my shoulders stay stiff, my body tense.

 

I feel his presence before I even hear him, the way a part of the tension immediately falls away tells me that he's here. Seconds later two strong arms wrap around me from behind as Harry leans over the back of the couch and I smile weakly without opening my eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Come back to bed, Lou. Please, you need to sleep for tomorrow." he mumbles in a sleep-rough voice, his face tucked into my neck, soft lips lightly tracing over my skin and I shiver involuntarily.

"I can't sleep. I'm too on edge." I sigh again and set the cup down so I can run my hands over his arms that are crossed over my chest.

"Relax. Christ, you're stiff as a rock." His hands move up over my chest and to my shoulders, massaging gently. I tip my head backwards so it rests against his shoulder, my neck slack, and moan deeply because God, that feels good. I laugh, a breathless laugh without any trace of humour.

"I can't, Harry. How could I possibly relax? Everyone expects so much of me, they all expect me to win the game for us tomorrow, they want me to work some kind of magic that I don't have and I feel like I'm going to burst, there's so much pressure and I don't know..." I ramble, my voice growing louder and louder until a long finger is softly placed over my lips, effectively silencing me.

"Shh." Pulling away from me Harry walks around the couch to kneel in front of me, and grabbing my hands into his much larger ones he blinks up at me, sleepy eyes full of sincerity. "I hate seeing you like this Lou. So on edge, it's so unlike you. Since when do you care so much about what other people think about you?" I get so lost in the feeling of his thumb gently running over my knuckles that I almost miss his question, so it takes me a while to answer, but when I do my voice is weak, exhausted from a week of pure stress and endless training.

"It's my big comeback. The first game ever since my injury, I have to be good or people will say that I lost my talent. And the last games have been a catastrophe. We need to win tomorrow, if we don't..." I fall silent, not knowing how to continue.

"Louis, you'll be fine. I know you will. This is what you love, you love to play football. And you're so good at it. Just give it your best, that's all anyone can ask for." Harry assures me, his eyes glowing warmly in the dim light falling through the window.

"But what if my best isn't good enough?" I voice my deepest fear, my fear of failing. He sighs, squeezing my hands and shaking his head at me.

"You need to stop this Lou. You're driving yourself crazy and I hate to see you like this, so scared. C'mon." He rises gracefully and pulls me to my feet with him. I raise an eyebrow, looking up at him questioningly and he smiles, a small smile that can't quite erase the worry etched onto his features. Bending his long body down to my height he presses a soft kiss to my lips and my fears are forgotten, just for a very short but precious moment. As always, he’s the best distraction and I know that I need this, I need him. Only he can erase my tension, I know it and the look in his eyes tells me that he knows it too.

"I'll run you a bath." he whispers against my lips and after a moment of hesitation, I nod. I haven't had a bath for years, I'm more of a shower kind of guy. But a bath with Harry? How could I resist?

"As long as you join me." I'm rewarded with a sincere smile and then I'm pulled into the bathroom where my large, oval shaped tub sits in the corner, all shiny black marble.

"I've never actually used this before" I admit while Harry starts the water and adds some bathing lotion to it, the sweet smell slowly filling the room, bathing us in lavender and jasmine. It's heavenly.

"Really? It's about time then. Come here," Harry orders, holding a hand out for me. I take it without hesitation and step closer to him until our chests are almost touching.

"You need to relax, Louis," he whispers in that deep, raspy voice of his while he runs his nose along mine, then slowly peels my hoodie off and over my head. "Relax." Trailing soft kisses from my throat all the way down to the waistband of my sweats he kneels down in front of me, leaving me basically panting. He makes quick work of my sweatpants and boxers and soon I'm naked, completely exposed to him but I don't feel shy at all. "Just relax." He presses another kiss to my hipbone, then rises and takes my hand to steady me as I step into the welcoming warm water. He undresses faster than I thought was possible and then climbs in behind me, pulling me to him so I rest between his legs, my head leaning against his chest. Trailing his fingers up over my sides until they reach my shoulders he starts massaging me again, his fingers kneading and squeezing my tense muscles, working their magic and I slowly start to unwind beneath his touch. He doesn't say a word the entire time, he just continues to massage me, pressing a kiss to my shoulder or my head every now and then and without even noticing I match my breathing to his, the steady rhythm soon calming me further.

Eventually I turn around in his embrace, making his hands fall from my shoulders while I move to straddle his lap, my own hands wrapping around his arms to steady myself.

"Thank you." I dip my head down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling widely at his pout when I pull away.

"Better?" I nod, and slowly the worry starts to disappear from his face as he, too, begins to relax. I can't help but notice how much calmer he is now that I am, and my heart swells. Moving my lips back down to his I kiss him again, harder this time and desire explodes inside me as he tentatively swipes his tongue over my bottom lip. This is what I need, him, close. This is what will make me forget about everything else. He's my distraction, my happy place and I need him right now. I let my hands travel up to his hair and pull roughly, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. He groans, allowing me to slip my tongue into his mouth and soon I get lost in the heavy dance of our tongues intertwining, battling.

"Please, Harry." I gasp as his hands travel down my back to my bum, squeezing tightly. Letting my hormones take over I start rocking in his lap, back and forth, rubbing our growing erections together and I smile in triumph when I feel how hard he is. "Make me forget. Please." I beg, sounding just as desperate as I feel but don't care. I'm always desperate for him, my need for him seems insatiable and it honestly scares me, but right now all that matters is the way Harry's long fingers glide between my buttocks, teasing me.

"Oh, Lou..." he moans, his lips moving down to my neck, kissing and sucking while he slips a finger inside me, the water allowing him to move smoothly even without lube.

"Oh god...oh please, Harry, please." I moan, my hips grinding down on his finger, desperate for more friction. I soon get what I want when he adds a second finger, then a third, slowly opening me up while he continues to kiss me, my lips, my neck, my chest, his lips and hands worshipping me like I need it right now.

"What do you want, Louis?" he groans, eyes wide and voice raw, his curls sticking to his forehead and I can't help but lift my hand to brush them back, my fingers fisting his hair tightly so I can pull his mouth towards me to kiss him deeply.

"You. Always."

"Yesss...." he hisses, his eyes fluttering close at my words and I'm intoxicated, completely lost in his touch and the sound of his deep, growling moan as he fills me completely, stretching me in the most perfect way. And then we move, me grinding down onto his lap in time with each thrust of his hips, our lips and tongues entwined in a heavy dance as we get lost in each other, forgetting everything else as pleasure builds around us, inside us until I can't hold it in anymore and cry out, coming onto both of us as almost unbearable pleasure shoots through me. Yes, this is it. This is what I needed. Harry doesn't need much longer, a few more deep thrusts and he comes into me with a cry of my name, his body shivering as he holds me close. I wince as he pulls out of me but a smile plays on my lips when he gently kisses my forehead, his lips swollen and cheeks flushed. I'm sated, sleepy and content as I rest my body against his for a while longer, enjoying the warm water and his skin against mine.

“I love you.” I smile, lifting my fingers to run them through the light dusting of wet hair on Harry’s chest before letting my lips follow their path, kissing the “I love you, too,” into his skin. And when he gently lifts me out of the tub and dries me, then puts me to bed and holds me close while I drift off into a deep, untroubled sleep, I know that with him by my side, I can do anything.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a moderate 9k words chapter but I hope you still like it, even if it’s short-ish. It’s still long compared to what other people write I guess, but compared to the previous mammoths of chapters this is a baby. Maybe a teenager chapter? I should stop, I’m being weird again.  
> Anyway, some happiness, some angst and tension because it can’t always be rainbows and unicorns can it? And some buttsex. Enjoy x 
> 
> PS: Thank you so so so much for over 9k hits! You guys blow my mind xx

The noise is insane. My ears are ringing, cheers erupting from the ranks around us, no concrete words audible as it all blends together into a wall of screams that hits me with full force. I’m tackled to the ground, an elbow landing in my ribs, a knee in my stomach as my teammates pile on top of me, nearly burying me alive but nothing can keep the wide smile off my face. My mouth is almost numb from it, from the massive smile that stretches my lips as wide as they go, and looking around I see the same look of pure joy on my teammates faces.   
Our coach joins the pile of bodies and even Tom throws himself on top of us, risking ruining is expensive suit to celebrate our win with us. It was a tough game, slow and full of fouls, it definitely wasn’t our best. We kept blocking Manchester, trying to prevent them from scoring any goals. It was defensive, miserable at best but it worked, none of it matters but the 67th minute. A perfect pass from Terry, my foot in just the right position, just the right angle to kick the ball into the net. It was a horrible game and I feel sorry for anyone who sat in front of the TV to watch it, but we won. We got the points to switch position with Manchester, to catapult us to the top of the Premier League and right now, as I look up at my mates, that’s all that matters. We’re number one.   
“Fucking hell Tommo!” Terry shouts, his grinning face appearing in front of me as he keeps yelling words I don’t understand over the cheering of the crowd, so I just smile back at him, ecstatically happy. I’m in trance, in pure bliss as all the tension I felt during the last week melts away, lifting a massive weight off my chest so I can finally breathe freely – well, I could, if it weren’t for the pile of grown men on top of me. But I feel like I’m floating, my head in the clouds as the words _we won we won we won_ flash through my head in time with my pounding pulse.   
Slowly my mates scramble off me and pick me up as I get passed around, crushing hugs being exchanged but it’s all a blur as I laugh and smile with the rest of my team, jumping up and down like a small child with all the excitement running through me.   
“Tomlinson, you’re my man!” Tom shouts into my ear and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, his expensive suit smooth against my sweaty skin. “I knew you could do it!” And it hits me, it hits me so hard that _I did it_. I truly did, I won this game for us. Of course it wasn’t just me, everyone else worked just as hard for this, to make this one opportunity possible that decided the game for us. But I scored the final goal, the goal that shot us to victory and fucking hell, it feels incredible.   
I’m giggly, bouncing around as I crane my neck, searching the seats just behind the side-lines for a familiar face. When I spot him the first thing I see is the smile on his face, miles wide and dimples on full display. It makes me laugh out loud in delight, that smile, because he is that happy _for me._ His hair is wild, probably from when he ran his hands through it in frustration during the game, and I giggle when he lifts his hand to shoot me a thumbs-up. I’m too far away to fully read his face or see the expression in his eyes, and I wish I could just run to him and jump into his arms, let him kiss me and tell me how proud he is, but of course I can’t. _One day_ , I think with a smile and send him a frantic wave before heading off to the changing rooms with everyone else.

 

I come out of the changing room wearing jeans and a blazer unlike when we have training, because I know that there will be paps outside. Usually we all go home in sweatpants and hoodies after training, but after big games we all dress up a bit to not look like the biggest shit when we know paps will be around. A lot of people congratulate me and I’m stopped for an interview every now and then, so the way out of the stadium takes twice as long as it usually would today but I don’t mind in the slightest, I’m too happy to say no to anyone today. I am impatient to get home, though, because it means that I’ll get to be alone with Harry.

He texted me to say he’ll meet me at Tom’s office, and as I approach him I see the same smile still on his face. I grin at him, jumping a bit when he holds his hand up for a high-five so I can smash my hand against his.  
“Hi, champ,” he breathes, smiling down at me with crinkling eyes shining brightly, full of pride and happiness for me and my heart swells.  
“Hi,” my own grin widens when he gently squeezes my hand for a second before dropping it, a sign that he wants to be close just as much as I do but it’s impossible with that many people around us, so we just gaze at each other longingly and head off to the exit, side by side with ridiculous smiles on our faces. Once we get to the exit Harry’s smile fades a bit, a frown settling over his beautiful face.   
“Louis,” he starts seriously and I swallow, the tone of his voice momentarily dimming my happiness. What’s wrong?   
“There’s paps everywhere outside. Literally everywhere, and fans too. I want you to stay by my side, we’ve got security guards out trying to keep the crowd at bay but you never know with a crowd like that. It was pretty crazy when Terry left, and you’re the star of the show today. They’ll go nuts.” He explains anxiously and I relax slightly, I know he’ll take care of me, I trust him and hell, they’re our fans. They wouldn’t hurt me would they?   
“Okay, cool. What about stopping for pictures or autographs?” I ask and see a look of pure horror cross Harry’s face, it would be hilarious if the situation weren’t so serious.   
“Louis, I’d rather you wouldn’t….” Harry starts, his throat bobbing as he swallows when I interrupt him.   
“They’re our fans, Harry, and as you said I’m the star of the show today. They supported us all along and I think it’s only fair to stop for pictures and autographs if they ask.” I interject gently, watching as Harry’s hands ball to fists at his sides. A dark look crosses his face and I frown, why the hell is he so anxious?   
“But only people in the first row, please. And if I feel like things are getting out of hand I’ll get you out of there without hesitation, and I want you to listen to me. Okay, Louis?” he asks sharply, knowing full well that I have a tendency to be stubborn and do whatever I please. I barely manage not to roll my eyes at him but I nod, promising him that I’ll listen to him.   
“You’re the bodyguard boss.”  
“Good, because if you don’t listen I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the car or pull you through there by your feet, I literally don’t care as long as I get you through there unharmed.” Exhaling deeply, Harry hands me a black marker pen and when I take it from him, I notice that his hands are shaking. I bite my tongue, not lashing out at him like I usually would because fuck me, he’s really worried. Part of me loves that he cares so much, but the other part of me can’t help but be annoyed that he’s overreacting so much. Surely it can’t be as bad as he makes it out to be, can it?   
“Lets get over with it,” I suggest and Harry nods tightly, motioning for another security guard in a bright yellow vest to follow after me as he walks out in front of me, pushing the doors open to reveal a mass of people larger than I’ve ever seen in front of the stadium. I’m used to fans being here after games, but this? This is insane. There’s people everywhere, and as soon as they see me they go absolutely nuts. Screams erupt, and I watch in horror as they push against the barriers set up outside, the security guards throwing themselves against them to keep the masses in place. I swallow, looking up at Harry with wide eyes and he nods, his eyes sending me a silent “I told you so” before he reaches for my arm and begins to pull me through the raging crowd. Everyone is screaming my name, begging for my attention and I try so hard to notice as many people as I can, sending smiles and waves their way and signing every piece of paper that is being held in my direction. I can feel Harry getting impatient, can see how stressed he is in the stiffness of his shoulders as he monitors the crowd, trying to pull me through it faster but I don’t let him. I pull back and bend down to sign a picture for a young girl, grinning at her when she smiles up at me, and just as I think that this isn’t even that bad things take a turn for the worse.

I hear a pitched scream and look up in alarm to see a girl, about my age, throw herself over the barriers, right next to where I’m standing. She flings herself into the mass of security guards that try to push her back, and just as I’m about to walk over to them and tell them to leave her alone I feel a hand on my arm, holding me back with an iron grip. The crowd around us goes even crazier, other people trying to jump over the barriers like the girl did and Harry’s grip on my arm tightens, bordering on painful as he begins to pull me through the crowd.   
“Harry, no, wait,” I beg, trying to get him to stop so I can check on the girl, I don’t want security to harm her but Harry just glares at me, his eyes blazing.   
“Fucking come along Louis, don’t be so fucking stubborn. Not now,” he barks and I flinch. He’s never spoken to me like that before, with so much venom in his voice and it freezes me completely. I go limp, let him guide me through the crowd and into a waiting car where he pushes me inside and climbs in behind me before slamming the door shut and yelling at the driver to start driving. He’s frantic, looking out of the back of the car to see if anyone is following us and I just sit there, brooding silently. I want to yell at him for treating me like some irate child but I don’t want to do it in front of the driver, so I wait for things to explode until we get home. “

 

What the fuck was that, Harry?” I yell as soon as the front door closes behind us, my hands rising to his chest to push him backwards.   
“Whoa, Louis, what….” Harry starts, holding his hands up as he regards me, obviously surprised at my outburst.   
“Why the fuck did you drag me out of there like that?” I spit, absolutely seething. “I wanted to make sure that that girl is okay and you… you just dragged be away like I’m some stupid child.”   
“Louis, I told you I was going to get you out of there if things went crazy. You don’t know what that girl was planning,” he explains, his voice rising in volume as his anger begins to match mine.   
“Why the fuck are you so convinced that she wanted to murder me? Why are you overreacting so much?”   
“Overreacting?” Harry shouts, his face going bright red in anger. “You think I’m _overreacting?”_ His jaw nearly hits the floor as he stares at me in disbelief, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head and I swallow, wondering if I went too far but I can’t back down now, can I? I step closer to him, standing tall as I look him into the eye.  
“Overreacting, yeah. You pulled me away without my consent and yelled at me and I –”   
“Oh, I’m sorry Louis. I’m sorry that I dragged you little princes through a crowd of hundreds of people that were _getting out of control_ without politely asking for your permission. I’m sorry that I did my job and protected you. I’m sorry that I love you and can’t stand the thought of you being hurt. I’m sorry for _overreacting_.” He spits the last word like it’s poisonous and throws his hands up in defeat, laughing in disbelief. His words completely take the wind out of my sails, they completely derail me and I can’t do anything but stand here, absolutely floored as he turn  
s around and heads towards the door. He pulls it open but hesitates, and the look of pure hurt in his eyes when he looks back at me nearly brings me to my knees. “You know, I was too late to save someone I cared about once, I'm not going to make the same mistake again.” The door falls shut behind him, the loud thud followed by deafening silence.

I just stand there in the hallway, my body slumping weakly against the wall as I listen to him starting his car and driving away. I can’t believe that this just happened, that we fought like this. I stare at the door he just walked through for minutes, my mind completely empty, my heart void of any emotion until I pull myself together and head upstairs to get changed. I pull on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, and only belatedly I realise that the sweatshirt is Harry’s. I look down at the plain black fabric that completely swallows me, and suddenly it hits me like a tidal wave what I just did.   
“Fuck,” I whisper as I sink down onto the floor, leaning against the headboard of my bed. What did I do? I yelled at him, made him feel bad for doing his job, for wanting to protect me. When it all happened I was so ecstatic about the win that I just wanted to be close to the fans, to thank them for supporting us and give something back to them that I didn’t even think about the consequences. I was happy, ignorantly so, and I completely forgot about how dangerous a crowd of that size can be. And Harry, he just wanted to keep me safe, because he cares about me. Because he _loves_ me. And I yelled at him, I made him feel like what he did was wrong. When in reality, it should’ve made me incredibly happy that he cares so much. It does now, now that I realised why he acted the way he did, and remorse hits me so hard that I’m gasping for air. All I can see is the look of hurt on his face when he left, his whispered words full of pain and _fuck_.   
“I’m sorry Harry, I’m so so sorry,” I frantically whisper to myself as I scramble around the room, looking for my phone. I have to talk to him, to get this right. I can’t let him think that I don’t appreciate him caring about me. I can’t let him think that I don’t love him. I press the phone to my ear with shaking fingers, but it goes straight to voicemail. He switched his phone off, of course. If I were him I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. God, I was such a brat to him. Why the fuck did I hurt him like that? I try calling him again, but his phone is still switched off.   
Well, fuck it, I decide and head downstairs to grab my car keys. I’m still in joggers and his sweater but I couldn’t care less. I jump into my Audi and drive off, my phone on the passenger’s seat in case he calls me back, though I doubt it. I’ve only been to his place twice so it takes a while to find it in the winding streets of endless London, and since I stop twice to get some stuff for today more than an hour has passed until I pull up in front of his apartment complex. I have to circle the building a few times until I find a parking spot, and with shaking legs I carry myself over to the door in his building.   
A young guy in a suit is just leaving so I slip inside and head upstairs, taking a few deep breaths before ringing the bell to his apartment, the two bags I’m carrying gripped tightly in my hand. I just hope we can work this out, that he accepts my apology, because I don’t know what I’d do if he doesn’t. I hear him shuffling around in his flat and a moment later the door opener for downstairs buzzes. Harry pulls the door to his apartment open, a frown on his face and it’s almost painful that I know exactly what he’s thinking. I know he’s wondering who the fuck is ringing his doorbell, he’s not expecting anyone, especially not me. That much becomes obvious when he sees me standing there and his face falls completely, surprise washing over his features.   
“Louis…” he starts, totally at a loss of what to do and I wait nervously, my eyes cast down. After a long moment he steps aside, inviting me in. “Come in.” He sounds hesitant, nervous almost and I decide that I never want him to sound like that again, not when he’s talking to me.  
“Thank you,” I manage to croak and try to send him an encouraging smile as I step past him and into the apartment. It feels fake even to me. I head to the kitchen and put the bags down on the table in the corner of the room, and when I turn around I spot Harry standing in the open doorway, his arms crossed defensively in front of his chest. He looks wary, watching every move I make with nervous eyes and I hate it, I absolutely hate seeing him like this, almost afraid of me. I open my mouth, trying to tell him how sorry I am but no words come out. I don’t know where to start so we just stare at each other, both at a loss of words.   
Harry looks so hurt, so lost as he watches me expectantly and I drink him in, all tousled hair and endless legs in comfy sweats. He looks good, if it weren’t for the paleness of his face or the hurt still lingering in his eyes. I want to touch him so badly, I want to walk up to him and let him wrap me up in his arms and tell me we’re okay, but I know I can’t do that. I fucked up this time, and he deserves an apology. But how the fuck do I do that? The seconds pass, turning into minutes until I finally can’t take it anymore.   
“I’m sorry,” I blurt ungraciously, my hands gripping the edge of the table behind me tightly, trying to anchor me, to hold onto something. Harry huffs out a humourless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. Not a promising start.   
“Louis…” he begins but I interrupt him, my feet automatically moving closer to him because I absolutely cannot stand the distance between us, physically and mentally.   
“No, wait. Please let me speak, Harry.” I beg, needing time to explain everything without him interrupting. Shrugging, Harry raises his hands in a ‘do what you must’ gesture, signalling me to talk away. I do.   
“I’m so, so sorry that I made you feel like I don’t appreciate that you worry about me, because fuck I do. I love that you worry, I love it so much,” I start, laughing breathlessly at the absolutely absurd idea that I wouldn’t like how he cares about me. “Today – I don’t even know what happened, what I was thinking. I was so pumped from the game and all these people were there, people that love and support our team and I just wanted to give them something in return, a bit of my time. I didn’t – I was so caught up in it that I didn’t even realise how dangerous it was.” I admit, my eyes cast down to the floor for a moment before I let them snap back up to meet his. He’s watching me quietly, an unreadable expression in his eyes, his face a blank canvas. I shiver but push myself to go on, knowing that I need to give him an explanation. “And that girl – I saw how rough security was with some of them. I know that it might’ve been dangerous, but I wanted to make sure she’s okay. But then you yelled at me,” I see his expression darken and quickly raise one of my hands, begging him to let me go on, “and you had every right to do that because you were in charge of the situation and I was a stubborn stupid brat.” I don’t even try to deny it, and I think I see a small smile tug up the corners of his mouth at my blunt description. It’s faint, but it’s definitely there and the relief I feel at this tiny positive reaction is ridiculous, really. “And then I got so mad, because I was so stoked from the game I didn’t want things to go wrong, I wanted this day to be perfect. But things didn’t go too smoothly outside the stadium and I hate, absolutely hate being pushed around, I hate not being able to make my own decisions. That’s why I refused to have a bodyguard for so long. But – I was blind from all the anger. I didn’t see that you only did it to protect me, at that moment all I could think about was how you were trying to keep me away from the fans. I’m so, so fucking sorry that I made it sound like you’re too much, like you caring about me is too much. It’s not.” I stop to take a deep breath and nervously, hesitantly walk the short distance still left between us. He’s towering over me, his expression still blank but his eyes have softened a bit.   
Feeling brave I reach up to stroke my fingers through the light stubble on his chin, over his chiselled jawline to his cheek, feeling the familiar warm skin of his face. He doesn’t react to my touch, but he doesn’t pull away either. I have to take that as a good sign.   
“I love you so much. And to know that I hurt you, that I made you feel like I don’t appreciate your love, it drives me crazy. Harry, you’re the most important person in my life and I feel like such an asshole for saying what I said. I was angry and blind and stupid and I didn’t mean any of it. Knowing that you care about me, that you worry and love me – it’s the best feeling in the world. I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am for making you feel like it’s not.” I am breathless, my heart pounding rapidly as I stand there in front of him, waiting for him to react, to tell me that he forgives me. He’s quiet for the longest time, just looking down at me, searching for the genuineness of my apology. The longer he stays quiet the more I feel panic bubbling inside me, making my pulse skyrocket in my veins, and then finally, finally he leans into my touch, nuzzling his cheek into my hand. I nearly collapse in relief.   
“What you saw today – it’s the Louis I was before I met you. I’m sorry that you had to see him.” I admit, my thumb rubbing gentle circles into his cheek.   
“I don’t like him too much, that Louis,” Harry rasps, his voice so deep and raw and his eyes finally sparkle with the silent amusement I love so much. I laugh in relief, my chest nearly bursting with the happiness that shoots through it.   
“Me neither,” I agree, heaving a huge sigh of relief when Harry bends down to wrap his arms around me, pulling me to his broad chest. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, my hands coming to rest between us on his stomach, tangled into the fabric of his shirt to anchor him to me. We stay like that for a while, just breathing each other in, enjoying being close to each other.   
“That really fucking hurt, Lou,” Harry admits quietly, his deep voice rumbling through his chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, absolutely hating that I caused him so much pain.   
“I know, and I’m so, so sorry.” I breathe against his neck, my lips moving over his skin, pressing soft kisses to every inch of him I can reach. “I love you so, so much. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you.”   
“I love you too, and the thought of you being in danger, of getting hurt… It’s abhorrent to me.” Harry whispers into my hair, his lips moving against the back of my head, kissing me so softly.   
“I’m so sorry, god. Why am I such an idiot,” I groan, exasperated and annoyed by myself. “I’m such a child.” Laughing, Harry tightens his grip on me, erasing all the space between our bodies.   
“Only sometimes,” he agrees, our joined chuckles echoing through the room. God, I love that sound.   
“Wait…” I suddenly remember something he said, just before he left today. I didn’t pay attention earlier, too caught up in the fact that I hurt him, but now as I think back to this afternoon his words come back to me. I pull away from him for a bit so I can look at his face, wanting to see his reaction. “You said you were too late to save someone once. What did you mean?” I have this suspicion that sends shivers down my spine, and when I see the haunted look on his face I know it’s true. He seems to know that I figured it out, too, because he nods at me before confirming it completely.   
“Gemma,” he confirms flatly, his hands tightening their grip on my hips.   
“Shit,” I fling myself back at him, this time wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him close to me, to comfort him.   
“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, almost impassively if it weren’t for the way he’s clinging to me in desperation.   
“What happened? The club…?” I wonder, my head spinning a hundred miles an hour with all the scenarios that come to my mind.   
“Let’s not go there tonight, please.” Harry begs and I want to object, want to tell him to open the fuck up and let me in but we already fought today, I definitely do not need that again. Not today, not ever. So I nod quietly, knowing that he’ll tell me when he’s ready to talk about it, just like he did with everything else.   
“Okay,” I agree, pushing myself up on my tippy toes to press a kiss to his temple.   
“Besides, I haven’t gotten ‘round to tell you how proud I am yet. You were absolutely fantastic today,” Harry praises me, leaning back to grin down at me. He releases my hip with one hand to tuck a strand of my fringe behind my ear, the motion so gentle that I shiver with the intimacy of it.   
“Thank you. I was so nervous, and now that we made it I feel like I’m floating.”   
“I had no doubt that you’d make it, Lou. You’re so good, I knew you were going to thrive. And you did. I’m so proud of you, baby.” I melt, the use of that nickname always turns me into a big pile of human mush and I just can’t take it anymore. I tangle my hands into his curls and pull him down to me until our lips meet, slotting together perfectly as we tilt our heads in well-practised motions.  
“You should go celebrate, I heard there’s a big party planned tonight.” Harry mumbles against my lips and I dive back in, nipping on his bottom lip before smashing our lips back together. I hum into the kiss, remembering my plan for tonight.   
“Actually,” I breathe once we pull apart, “I have other plans.” I untangle myself from him and walk back to the two plastic bags I brought along. I dig into one of them, pulling out a bottle of expensive red wine. Harry hums in surprise, following me to the table to take the bottle from me.   
“I actually wanted to make dinner, but we both know I can’t cook for shit. So when I saw that Chinese takeaway place you told me about once, I stopped there and got, uh -” I take out five large containers of food, eyeing the names scribbled on top of it “ – a bit of everything, to be honest.”   
“You remembered that I told you about the Chinese place? That was weeks ago,” Harry seems impressed as he puts all the food onto plates and begins to heat them up in the microwave.   
“Of course I do. Despite most people thinking I’m a selfish bastard, I actually do listen to you. Only you, actually, but oh well.” I joke and Harry turns around to smile at me, this beautiful wide smile that makes his dimples pop and my heart flutter.   
“That’s really good wine. It’s actually a shame that we don’t have the time to really enjoy it, not when we want to make it to your footie party in time.” Harry sighs wistfully, handing me two glasses from the top shelf in his kitchen with a wink because he knows exactly that I’m too short to reach them. Bastard, I think fondly. “Fuck the footie party.” I shrug and take the two glasses, setting them down on the couch table. I hear Harry gasp and turn around to see if he’s okay, afraid that he burned himself or something but he’s looking at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open.   
“You don’t want to go to the celebration party?” he questions full of disbelief and I shake my head, my bottom lip bitten into my mouth.   
“No. I hate fighting with you, and even more than that I hate making you upset so I’d much rather have a quiet night in with you. Including red wine, Chinese food, shitty movies and falling asleep on the sofa.” I explain, grabbing some of the plates he already warmed up and carrying them to the living room as well.  
“Wow, you really don’t like us fighting, do you?” I quietly shake my head, still nibbling on my bottom lip and Harry reaches out to gently tug it out of my mouth before bending his long body down and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Are you sure? It’s your big day, your big win. You were so anxious all week and now that you made it you should celebrate.” Harry objects but I silence him with a finger against his lips.   
“And celebrate we will. Just you and me.” And the most unbelievable thing is, I actually mean it. I absolutely, totally prefer a quiet night with Harry over the huge party that is going to happen at the club tonight. A few months ago I never, ever would’ve missed this party, not for anything. But that was before I knew how good it felt to be cuddled up against Harry on the sofa, kissing until our lips go numb and we fall asleep.   
“Lou,” Harry tries again but I shut him up with another kiss.   
“Please, Harry. It’s you and me tonight, I don’t want it any other way.”   
“You and me, baby.”

*  
  
ignore all the messages and calls I get from people asking where I am, I just turn my phone off and snuggle closer into Harry’s side. I’m wearing a pair of his boxers and a large hoodie just like him, the empty takeout containers scattered all over the couch table. Sighing contently I run my foot over his calf, tucking my cold toes between his warm legs. He flinches and shivers before smiling down at me, his eyes sleepy.   
“Cold?” he asks and wraps the blanket tighter around us but I shake my head and smile dopily, my lips automatically moving to press a kiss to his throat.   
“Perfect.” Wine tinted lips stretch into a wide smile before they meet mine in a lazy suck, both of us tasting like soy sauce and dumplings and red wine and it’s absolutely perfect.

   
*

 

“You know what?” I mumble into Harry’s chest, the light of a lazy Sunday morning falling through a gap in the curtains. We eventually made it to his bed at two in the morning, when Harry woke up to pee and then woke me up with kisses before carrying me from the sofa into his bedroom.   
“Hmm?” Harry hums sleepily, his fingers gently playing with the fringe on my forehead, carding through my hair in a soothing motion that nearly puts me back to sleep.   
“I think you should teach me some defence moves.” I suggest quietly, my fingers swirling lazily across his naked chest.   
“No. Absolutely not.” Harry immediately shoots my idea down as his body goes rigid beneath mine. Frowning, I lift my head from his chest to look at him questioningly, surprised by his vehemence.   
“Why not?”   
“Because, Lou, I don’t ever want you to get into a situation where you’d have to defend yourself. Seeing you training to defend yourself – it would make the idea of you getting hurt too real. No.” Harry explains quietly and damn, he’s dead serious.   
“But what about you? You worry about me, I get that. But I worry about you, too. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I want to be able to defend myself so you won’t need to intervene and possibly get hurt.” The mere thought of Harry being injured because of me, of him throwing himself between me and someone who wants to harm me – no. I can’t even go there in thought, I can’t bear to finish that thought.   
“Louis, it’s my job.” Harry reminds me and I snap, my hand lashing out to lightly punch his chest.   
“I don’t give a fuck about your job, I don’t want to see you in pain because of me. Never ever.” I insist angrily, my head propped up on his chest so I can pin him down with my gaze, to let him know that I’m serious. He just stares right back, totally unimpressed by my outburst.   
“But Lou, that’s the idea behind being a bodyguard. And in case you didn’t know, that’s what I am.” And fuck me, he’s actually amused.   
“This is not funny! I’m serious, I don’t want you to get into any harmful situation because of me.” I roar, my eyes blazing into his but he remains totally calm.   
“And I refuse to teach you any defence moves.” He states simply, his hands resuming their task of stroking over my bare shoulders but I push them away and sit up. “Fine, then. I’ll call Tom and ask him to book me a personal trainer for that. How’s that sitting with you, knowing that someone else will get to see me all sweaty? That some other man will roll around on the floor with me, will touch me and teach me–”   
“Fuck no, we’re going to the gym tomorrow.” Harry sits up too, his gaze hardening and I grin widely. I knew I could count on his jealousy. It’s my best friend.   
“Okay, thank you.” I say sweetly and lean across the bed to plant a kiss onto his lips. Harry sighs deeply and runs his hands over his face, knowing full well that he just totally fell for my game. The thought makes me laugh out loud.   
“Besides, I also think it’ll help you relax a bit more, knowing that I can take care of myself when it comes down to it. You’re always so tense when we’re out, if you keep going at that rate you’ll keel over before you’re 30. And I want you around for longer than that.”   
“You do?” Harry questions, removing his hands from his face so he can look up at me from where he plopped back down onto the mattress, his hair around him like a halo.   
“Hmm. Much longer.” I confirm, leaning down to rub our noses together. Our lips meet and I sigh into the kiss, melting into the feeling of his mouth moving against mine. “Much, much longer.”

 

*****

 

“You’re holding back!” I yell, standing up from the mat where Harry has been teaching me how to roll your body so you land safely after you get knocked over for the past fifteen minutes. We did some basic punching techniques before that but didn’t really go any further than that.  
“No, I’m not.” Harry fires back, but the look of guilt on his face confirms what I already knew.   
“You totally are! Harry, how the fuck am I supposed to learn something when you treat me like I’m made of glass? Attack me, throw me around, pin me down, hit me. **Do something**!” I shout, throwing my arms out to the sides, giving him an opening to attack me but he doesn’t.   
“I – I can’t, Lou.” Harry admits flatly, his arms falling to hang limply by his sides.  
“What do you mean you can’t?” I hiss, raising my fists in the starting position Harry taught me, waiting for him to attack me but it never comes.  
“I can’t fight you, what if I hurt you? I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you in any way.” I sigh in exasperation, looking into his wide puppy eyes that are begging me not to make him go through with it, and it makes all the anger inside of me melt.   
“Harry, it’s not going to kill me when I get a bruise or hit my elbow, I’m stronger than I look. Football is fucking harsh, I get kicked and punched every day so don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.” I explain somewhat calmly, dropping my hands as Harry pulls a face at the thought of me getting kicked on the field.  
“Maybe it’s not going to kill you, but it’ll kill me to know that I caused you pain.” Okay, I think to myself, looks like he’s not going to give in. Maybe I should take the first step? I slowly step towards him and run my thumb along his jaw, smiling when he leans into the touch and closes his eyes like a content kitten. I let my hand linger for a moment before retreating it, and just as he closes his eyes I use all my strength to throw myself at him, knocking him flat to the ground so I land on top of him.   
“Ooof! Louis, what the fuck?” he shouts, surprised by my attack and I allow myself a second to grin smugly before gripping his wrists and pinning them down over his head.  
“Fight me, Harry! Please, fight me.” I yell, tightening my grip on his wrists as he tries to free his hands. Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, a pained look flashing over his face before he exhales a whispered, “fuck.” Then suddenly he’s moving, freeing his hands from my grasp with a practised twist and grabbing my hips, turning me around so he can flip us over.   
“You want to fight, hm?” I nod wildly, chewing on my bottom lip as I try to free my hands from his grasp but he’s far too strong. I buck my hips up, trying to shove him off me but he won’t budge, so with a grimace I jerk my knee up and kick him right between the legs.   
“Motherfucking… Lou,” Harry groans, his hands releasing mine to cup his aching balls and I roughly yank on his hair to push him off of me. I don’t allow myself the time to laugh in triumph, instead I push myself up off the ground and scramble to my feet, trying to get away from ‘my enemy’. I don’t get very far, though, before I feel two large hands wrap around my hips and a foot sliding behind my right leg, pulling so I lose my footing and tumble to the ground with a yelp. Harry catches me before I hit the floor and spins me around, his body rolling until it’s on top of mine. I’m panting beneath him, trying to push him off of me but he just grins wolfishly, the length of his body pinning mine to the ground.   
“So you want to play dirty, hm?” he rasps, his pupils blown wide and his hair falling out of his bun from all my yanking and pulling. He laughs when I try and fail to push him off again and I huff in return, getting frustrated.   
“Yes, always,” I pant, shifting my hips to try and squeeze out from underneath him but I can’t, he’s everywhere.   
“I can do dirty,” Harry breathes and suddenly he’s kissing me, his lips meeting mine with full force. I moan out loud at the sudden attack, my lips immediately allowing his tongue to slide in between them. My grip on his shirt tightens on his chest but this time I don’t try to push him off anymore, instead I pull him closer, holding him to me as I tilt my head to deepen the kiss further. Our lips separate with a wet plop, Harry running his mouth down my jaw and neck, biting roughly into the skin covering my left collarbone.   
“Fucking fuck, Ha – Harry,” I gasp, my hips involuntarily shifting upwards to meet his, a sly grin spreading across my face when I feel his rock hard erection rub against mine. “This turns you on, hm? Rolling around on the ground with me? Fighting me? Getting dirty with me?” I whisper teasingly, sliding my hands beneath his shirt and up to his chest, thumbing over his nipples. Harry shivers widely, his mouth falling open against my neck at the sensation.   
“Can’t you tell?” he gasps, suggestively wiggling his hips against mine and I chuckle into his hair, my hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt.   
“Off,” I command and Harry obliges, lifting his arms so I can peel the shirt off of him to reveal his long, smooth back.   
“So fucking sexy,” I compliment and run my fingers down his back, digging my fingernails into his skin just enough to leave light red marks. Groaning, Harry shifts and lifts himself off the ground slightly to remove my shirt and I moan out loud, my fingers running over the flexing muscles in his back.   
“Gorgeous,” Harry kisses the word into my now bare chest and moves lower, kissing his way down my sternum and stomach until he reaches my navel, his teeth gently nibbling at the sensitive skin around it.   
“So gorgeous,” he rasps again, looking up at me with wild eyes and I shiver, my hands moving atomically to undo his bun so his curls fall freely over his shoulders, giving me something to pull on.   
“Harry, fuck, please tell me you brought lube,” I pant, running my hands from the small of his back down to his sweatpants and lower, sliding beneath the fabric to cup his boxer-clad bum.  
“I did,” he confirms and I feel his smug grin against my stomach before he pushes himself off of me and hurries over to his bag, all tousled hair and flushed face, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his lower back. I kneel up to meet him when he comes back, my fingers curling around the waistband of his sweats to pull him into me. 

“Hi,” I grin up at him and nuzzle into his still closed erection, making his entire body jerk so he drops the lube with a loud clatter. Grinning widely I hook my fingers into his boxers and pull them down along with his sweats, leaving him completely naked and panting in front of me. Without missing a beat I run my mouth along his shaft until I reach the tip, my tongue dashing out to lap over his flushed head before sucking him into his mouth.   
“Shit, Louis – ” Harry groans, his hips involuntarily shooting forwards to slide him deeper into my mouth. I hum around his cock, knowing that the vibration will drive him even crazier. “Lou, stop, please, I don’t want to come into your mouth,” Harry begs between his gasps and I still, looking up at him with challenging eyes.   
“Make me,” I dare him before taking him back into my mouth, sucking hard. Harry groans loudly, his body tumbling forwards as he wraps his hands around my shoulders, pushing me off him and throwing me to the ground.   
“You little tease,” he chastises me as his body joins mine on the floor, hovering above me and supporting himself on his arms so he doesn’t crush me. “Think you can drive me wild like that, hm?” Smirking, Harry pushes his hand into my boxers, squeezing me tightly. A weak whimper pushes past my lips as my hips tilt upwards to meet his touch, wanting more friction, needing it desperately. Suddenly he removes his hand but before I can whine at the loss of his touch he wraps his arm around my waist and flips me over so I’m lying on my stomach beneath him, panting into the hard floor of the empty gym. Harry reaches for his discarded shirt and grips my wrists, pinning my hands behind my back and tying them together with his shirt, leaving me completely helpless and at his mercy. I whimper into the cold floor, my hips automatically rubbing against the ground in search of friction until Harry’s large hands land on my hips, holding me still.  
“Don’t,” he commands darkly and I moan, so incredibly turned on at being manhandled like this. I feel Harry’s long body on top of mine, pinning me to the floor, effectively trapping me beneath him. He runs his lips from my neck over my spine to the waistbands of my sweats, his hands roaming greedily over the sweat-slick skin of my back.   
“So beautiful,” the whispered words are kissed into my skin and I turn my head to bite into the flesh on my shoulder, trying to keep the moans in. Harry slides his body lower along mine, lower and lower until he reaches my sweats, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to cup my bum, his large hands covering it almost completely.   
“This,” he breathes into the skin on my lower back, teeth nipping gently at the flesh on my hips, “is very nice.”  
“Is it?” I whisper breathlessly, suggestively wiggling my bum and pushing it backwards into his hands. He responds my squeezing my cheeks tightly, sending a shiver down my spine that raises goosebumps on my skin. Instead of an answer Harry slides my sweatpants down my legs, taking my boxers with them in one go so I’m left naked in front of him.   
“It is.” He confirms darkly and leans his head down, his lips sucking a bruise into my left cheek that has my entire body tremble with anticipation. “Very nice indeed.” Large hands spread across my bum again, kneading the flesh while his lips discover my skin, sucking and biting into it until my toes curl without my control, my entire body tight.   
“Oh god, Harry, please,” I beg breathlessly, tugging at the shirt that binds my hands together in the hopes of freeing them but it won’t budge. I hum high through my nose, my entire body aching with the desire to touch him, to feel his skin beneath my fingertips, to tease him like he teases me but I can’t move at all, can’t do anything but take whatever it is he decides to give me and fuck, it’s hot. I can feel my own cock painfully hard and leaking against my stomach, a small puddle making my skin stick to the cold floor.   
“You want it, baby, you get it,” Harry promises and moves his hands to pull my arse cheeks apart and I sigh in relief, waiting for the tell-tale sound of the lube being uncapped so he can coat his fingers but it never comes. I frown, but then his hot breath hits my hole just before his tongue lashes out to lick over it and my entire body jolts as my mind goes completely blank.   
“Fuck!” I shout loudly, my body trembling into his touch as Harry presses his face tighter between my cheeks, his lips sucking a wet kiss to my hole. I feel his grin against my skin as he keeps diving in, softly licking over my opening, little kitten licks that bring tears to my eyes. I’m so hard it’s almost painful, but with Harry pinning my hips down with one of his hands I have no chance to move, no chance to search the friction that I need to get off so I just lay there, taking it as he nibbles on the soft skin of my ass around my hole before licking into it, his tongue slowly pushing into me, opening me up.  
“Oh god, Harry, fuck fuck fuck,” I wail, the burning sting from his tongue sending tears down my face but fuck, it feels good. Too good.   
“Shit, you’re so responsive,” Harry moans appreciatively before diving back in, dipping his tongue in and out of me to stretch me open while his free hand massages my arse, gripping the flesh so tightly that it’ll probably leave a bruise.   
“Please, please Harry I need to – fuck, please,” I sob loudly, my body too wound up and too far gone to care about how wrecked I sound.   
“Okay, baby, hang in there,” I mewl, and finally, thankfully I feel Harry sneak his arm around my body, pulling me into a kneeling position in front of him. His hand finds my cock and starts pumping and I nearly weep in relief at the friction I needed for so long. His lips move back to my hole, sucking harshly before I feel two of his lubed up fingers slide into me, stretching me further than his tongue did. His fingers brush over my prostate deep inside of me and I cry out, my body shaking in his embrace at the sensation of his finger inside of me and his hand on my cock, pumping me tightly.  
“Harry, Harry fucking fuck, I – oh god, fuck,” I babble incoherently, my body shooting forwards when I feel his tongue inside me next to his fingers and I finally come violently with a scream, my entire body shaking as I spurt come up to my chest. Pulling his hand out of me Harry wraps his second arm around my waist to support my trembling body, too weak to hold myself up as he strokes me through my orgasm.

“My turn,” Harry announces smugly as soon as I’ve come down enough to support myself and I hear him shuffling around behind me, putting on a condom and a moment later I feel him at my entrance, pressing into me slowly but steadily. He pulls my hips back until my arse is settled snugly against his hips, large hands holding me in place as he begins to pound into me. Groaning, I lift my head to look over my shoulder and the sight of him is enough to have me harden again, my treacherous body too attuned to his. He looks so fucking wrecked already, his lips glistening and swollen from when he ate me out, sweat coating his chest and sticking his curls to his face. Mewling I clench around him, prompting loud grunts to fall from his mouth as he runs his hands over my back to my hair, tangling his fingers into it and roughly pulling me further into him.   
“C’mon Louis, please. Again, I need you to –” Harry begs, his thrusts becoming sloppier, more frantic as he begins to stiffen and I know he’s close, so close to spilling into me and the thought drives me absolutely wild, knowing that I’m the one who winds him up that much. He wraps one of his hands around my cock again, pumping me like he did before and my body obeys as I begin to climb higher and higher in time with his thrusts, searching my release again.   
“Please, Lou,” he whines, sounding so desperate, so weak that it’s my undoing. I come again, my body shivering and collapsing straight to the floor as Harry lands on top of me, coming hard into the condom. We lie there on the hard gym floor for a long time, just breathing and relaxing together, Harry’s weight on my back a comfortable warmth on my naked skin.   
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Lou,” Harry whispers into my shoulder blade, his fingers drawing feather light patterns onto the skin on my back. “I promise I’ll protect you, always.” I feel Harry press a soft skin to my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin and I weakly close my eyes, the sincere promise soothing me as much as it sends a burning fear through my veins.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, rimming and now lingerie, I’m really going all the way at the moment. Such a naughty minx I am. Whoopsie.   
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter, have a good day/night wherever you are, I hope you’re all well.  
> If you have any questions, feedback or just want to chat, feel free to say hi on Twitter (@myheroiscurly).   
> All the love in the world,  
> Lily x 
> 
>  
> 
> PS: CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT MADE IN THE AM?? I AM SO DONE WITH THESE BOYS PLEASE STOP FUCKING UP MY LIFE; I'VE GOT UNI TO ROCK AND A LIFE TO BUILD BUT THESE IDIOTS KEEP INTERFERING AND okay I love them, nothing to be done about that really. But they've got some very amazing songs on the album, don't you agree? What are your faviourites? 
> 
> _______________________________________________________________

I run my fingers over the soft fabric, the fine details of the lace giving in to my gentle touch. It feels smooth against my skin, not scratchy like I thought it would with such delicate patterns woven into the sheer silk. The lace runs all the way around the waistband of the panties but also around my legs and over my bum, the high cheeky cut barely covering my arse. It’s not a thong, but there’s not that much fabric on my backside either. I twist and turn in front of the mirror, raking my neck to catch a glimpse of how my bum looks in the almost see-through fabric. I blush, running my thumbs over the silk covering my hips, smoothing my hands over the panties and down to my legs. Me, wearing panties. I chuckle silently at myself, a nervous, choked sound. I was walking though Westfield’s today, looking for a new Adidas jacket when I passed Victoria’s Secret, the lingerie in the windows intriguing a part of me I never knew I had. A kinky part of me. I didn’t give myself too much time to overthink and instead slipped into the store, hoping that any girls who saw me in there thought I was looking for underwear for my girlfriend. Yeah, right. I tried not to blush when I bought the panties and ignored the cashier’s fond smile, she probably thought they’re for my girlfriend too. As it is, I do a last twirl in front of the mirror, wiggling my barely covered bum. They’re surprisingly comfortable, the panties, even if it takes some time getting used to the feeling of barely being covered down there. I’m used to thick boxers or briefs, not lacy woman’s panties. But the feeling isn’t unpleasant so I try not to think about it too much as I slip on my sweatpants and head downstairs, though the soft rub of the lace against me makes my cock perk up in interest. I can’t wait to see Harry’s reaction tonight, when he discovers what I’m wearing. I don’t even know if he’s a fan of lingerie, but I guess we’ll find out tonight.   
Grinning to myself I open the fridge and take out the leftovers from yesterday, heating them up in the microwave as I open a bottle of beer and take a large gulp, for encouragement. My phone buzzes on the counter, showing a message from Harry.

**From: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 19:12  
I’ll be at yours at around 8, okay?**  
  
I smile, the ridiculous nickname making me chuckle into the silence of my kitchen. Somehow I just can’t bring myself to change it.   
****  
To: Mr. Cute And Deadly, 19:13  
Sure, see you then xx  
  
I make sure to add five smirking emojis and three exploding confettis, giving Harry a warning of what is to come. He sends back two noses and I bark out a laugh, remembering his in-depth rant about how they look like two upside-down penises. I fondly shake my head at his ridiculous idea before locking my phone and devouring my dinner in record time, knowing that Harry will be here soon. I gulp down the rest of my beer and brush my hand over my cock, adjusting myself as best as I can in the thin panties. Just the light touch of my own hand has me shiver in anticipation, the steady pressure of the lace against my bum heating my entire body.

 

*

 

I slowly push the door open, the light from the bathroom spilling into my barely lit bedroom. I take two steps into the room and lean back against the doorframe, waiting for Harry to look up.   
“That was a damn long piss,” he teases, looking up from the book he’s reading and he stills completely. I swallow harshly, watching with heavy eyes as the book falls from his limp hands and lands on the carpet next to the bed with a soft thud. Harry doesn’t seem to notice, though, his hands remain frozen, his mouth stuck open on an inaudible gasp.  
I allow myself to grin for a moment before deliberately lifting one of my legs and bending it backwards, pressing my foot against the wall so the muscles in my thigh shift. Harry’s breath hitches, his eyes snapping up and down between my legs, groin and face in rapid, wild motions.   
“Well?” I tease, tutting at his completely motionless stare before pushing myself off of the wall and spinning around to pull the door shut behind me, giving Harry a full view of my bum in the black lace panties. I hear him gasp and shuffle on the bed so I lazily turn around again to face him. He’s kneeling up on the bed, his hands hanging limply by his side, his face still so completely dumbstruck that it makes me giggle into the heated air between us.  
“You…” Harry starts, his voice rough like he hasn’t spoken for days and my entire body tingles in response. “What… when… did you…” he tries, his voice trailing off when I run my hands along the lacy waistband of my panties, his mouth going slack, eyes hazy and unfocused.   
“Did I?” I prompt teasingly, knowing full well what I’m doing when I run my left foot up my right leg until my leg is bent, giving him a full view of my leaking cock in the sheer panties, the tip just peeking out of the low-cut material. Harry’s eyes go round, wide and so lost, the green nearly swallowed by the black of his irises as his hands twitch weakly with the need to touch me, his body still too frozen to actually oblige.  
“Fuck. Come here, please,” he breathes, his torso swaying forwards on the bed, towards me. “Just come here.” He begs again and I obey, lazily running my toes over the carpet as I slowly stroll over to the bed. I playfully hook my fingers into the waistband and pull it away from my hips only to let it snap back against my skin, Harry’s eyes following the motion hypnotically. I reach the bed and swallow audibly, my knees bumping into the mattress. I can feel Harry’s hot breath on my stomach, his body just inches from mine but he doesn’t touch me, just stares up at me with wide eyes.  
“Hi,” I whisper and smile down at him, my fingers curling into his hair just behind his ear, my thumb stroking lazily across his cheek. The motion seems to snap Harry out of his haze, because he slowly, tentatively reaches out and lightly rests his hand on my hips, his fingers carefully running over the soft fabric covering my skin, barely dipping beneath it.   
“Are these,” Harry wonders, smoothing his hands over my hips to my bum, his warm palms resting snugly on my cheeks, long fingers playing with the lace cut into the waistband of the panties over my cheeks. “women’s lingerie?” I moan at the feeling of Harry slipping one of his hands beneath the fabric to knead my left cheek, my body tumbling forwards and into his so his chin rests on my stomach as he continues to stare up at me with burning eyes.   
“Ye-yes,” I stutter, my eyes falling shut as Harry bites softly into the skin just above my navel, my body trembling at the touch. “Bought them today.”  
“Hmm,” Harry hums against my skin, his lips moving to suck another bruise into my stomach, this time just below my navel. “The thought of you walking into a women’s lingerie shop, buying panties for you. For me...” Harry takes a deep breath, his hands tightening their grip on my arse. “Fuck.”   
Suddenly he grips my arse hard and pulls so I fall onto the bed next to him, my body bouncing on the bed until Harry covers it with his own, keeping me still.   
“Louis Tomlinson, you have no shame. I absolutely love it, baby.” He grins, his eyes trailing up from my legs over the panties to my face, an admiring gleam in his eyes.  
“You do?” I gasp, smoothing my hands down his bare back, feeling the firm muscles ripple under his skin and my mouth goes dry.  
“You look fantastic. Just, wow. Fuck. So hot. So dirty. Just for me.”   
Smiling, Harry slips his hand behind my knee and wraps my leg around his hip, our groins aligning. We both groan out in unison, my hips automatically lifting into his in search of more friction.  
“That ass,” Harry groans, leaning his torso over my body to run his nose along the seam of my panties, his teeth biting gently into the flesh beneath them. A breathless giggle escapes my lips at the motion, my hands flying up to his shoulders to steady myself as he flips me onto my stomach so I’m lying beneath him.  
“This deserves proper examination,” he decides and I can feel his grin against my skin as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to my arse, switching between my cheeks. My body immediately bends backwards, my bum pushing up to meet his tongue as he runs it over the sheer fabric covering my skin, the wet lace darkening as it clings to my bum.   
“So soft,” he mumbles appreciatively and dives back in, licking over the already damp fabric again and again, his tongue slowly digging deeper.  
“Nrrrgh…” I grunt and my hands automatically shoot up to the headboard, knuckles white as I’m holding onto it for dear life.   
Harry keeps going like that, his large hands gripping tightly into the flesh on my ass to hold my cheeks apart as he runs his tongue over my covered hole, over and over again until the fabric is dripping wet and my body is trembling against the now sweaty sheets beneath me.   
“I fucking love this,” Harry mumbles appreciatively, his breath cold on my flushed, damp skin and I shiver, wiggling my bum backwards in search of his warm mouth. I feel him slide his hands over my skin until they meet in the middle of my arse to push the panties out of the way. I hold my breath, because -   
“Oh.” Harry freezes, his hands tightening on my body and I grin widely at his breathless whisper. “You – you prepped yourself.”   
“Why’d you think I needed so long in the bathroom?” I grin back at him over my shoulder, raising my eyebrows suggestively and giggling at his stunned face, swollen slick lips hanging open in a gape. Harry’s face softens, his eyes glowing warmly as he gently shakes his head at me, a small smile curving his mouth upwards.  
“You’re too much, Louis.” My laughter ends in a gasp when suddenly Harry’s hands are on my hips to flip me around so I’m on my back underneath him, a wicked smirk on his face that sends expectant shivers down my spine. I watch, absolutely hypnotised, as Harry’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, his teeth sinking into his sinfully red bottom lip for a moment before he bends down, further and further down until his lips land just above the waistband of my panties.   
“Ha- harry,” I moan, my back arching into him. Harry hums against my skin in response, his mouth working on sucking a bruise just below my navel. He nips at the sore skin, pleasure and pain shooting through me in a heady mix and _fuck_.  
“Oh god, Harry, please,” the whimper falls from my lips without my control, my body already so wound up from prepping in the bathroom and Harry’s teasing that I’m ready to burst any given second.   
“Patience, Lou. Let me enjoy this,” Harry objects, looking up at me with his chin resting on my stomach and oh, he’s so adorable. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he compliments, and without warning he dips his head back down and sucks my leaking tip into his mouth.   
“Nrrgh, fuck!” My hands shoot to my sides to grab the sheets, holding onto them to anchor me to something, anything to stop my free fall. “Harry, shit…”  
“Yeah?” he questions in faux innocence, pausing his sucking and instead running his mouth along my shaft, dampening the fabric of my panties further.   
“Fuck me.” I gasp breathlessly, my entire body trembling and shaking in the sheets. “Please.” I add, just for good measure and it’s worth it when Harry giggles, the sound so boyish and happy that it makes my heart flutter inside my chest.  
“So polite,” he compliments and runs his lips down my thigh, pausing every now and then to suck a bruise into my skin. “And since you asked so nicely…” Harry pushes himself up on his arms to smirk down at me, his eyes so dark they almost look black in the dim light of the bedroom. “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to keep these on.” He nods down to my soaked panties, his pupils widening even further at the sight and _Christ_ , I’m so gone for this man. “Want you to make a mess in your little panties for me, yeah?” Oh god. Just the thought… I nod eagerly, probably too eagerly but I don’t care, all I know is that I want him, right now, right this very second.   
“Yes, fuck, yes please.” I stammer, my voice pitched and airy and if I weren’t so far gone already I’d be embarrassed as hell, but right now all I am is desperate. For him.   
“Good,” he breathes and shuffles up my body until he can kiss me, his lips bruisingly hard against mine but I push back with equal ferocity, my lust a complete match to his. We’re all clashing teeth and tangling tongues and I vaguely register Harry leaning to the left and pulling the bottle of lube out of my bedside table. I run my hands down the endless expanse of his back, my nails digging into his skin to leave marks and Harry shivers above me, his hands nearly dropping the lube.  
“Got you a bit worked up, Styles?” I tease, running my hands along the waistband of his boxers and watching as his skin rises in goosebumps.   
“Ah bit, yeah,” Harry laughs, looking down at the massive tent in his boxers with a boyish grin before clambering off me to take them off. Once he’s gloriously naked he joins me on the bed again, straddling me and I just have to kiss him, there’s no other way. So I tangle my hands in his hair and pull his mouth to mine, our lips meeting hard. I feel him trail one of his hands over my naked chest to my hips and lower, pushing the panties aside so he can push into me, slowly, carefully. I keen into his mouth, unable to stop my hips from snapping up to meet his, taking him in even deeper.  
“Fuck, yes,” Harry’s airy whisper hits my lips in a gush of warm air, and for a moment we’re frozen still, just enjoying being as close as two people could possibly be. We’re one, our hands intertwined and our lips tangled, and Harry begins to move, slowly pulling out and pushing into me again, and again. We’re breathing in unison, and for all I know our hearts might even be beating in the same rhythm right now.   
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips, feeling them curve up in a smile against mine.  
“Love you, too.” The words are kissed into my neck, warm lips sliding down to kiss across my chest and I run my hands over every inch of him I can reach, longing to feels as much of his smooth skin as I possibly can. I wrap my legs around his hips, binding him closer to me and we both gasp at the shift in angles, the slide getting deeper.   
“Harry, fuck…” I groan, biting down onto my lip and digging my hands into his shoulders, desperately trying to hold onto something as pleasure begins to build inside me.   
“C’mon, Lou, make a mess for me. Please.” Harry’s words urge me on, so strained and raw that I know he, too, is close, and when he swivels his hips just right to change the angle even more I’m gone. I come with a violent shudder, my body arching wickedly into his as I spill onto my stomach and Harry’s chest, soaking the panties once and for all. They’re probably ruined, but in my current state of bliss I can’t find it in me to care, not when Harry is falling apart above me in the most beautiful way, his mouth falling open and his eyes scrunching closed as his body slumps against mine, his head resting on my chest as we both try to catch our breaths. I smile contently at the ceiling, my hands carding through his curls, earning an appreciative hum from him. We just lie there for a while, basked in comfortable silence and the dim light from my bedside lamp, both too content to move or speak.  
Eventually Harry pulls out of me and sits up, watching the come on my stomach and the mess that are my panties with a proud smile.  
“Properly wrecked, I’d say.” He grins, his hand reaching out to snap the waistband of the panties against my hips.  
“Arse,” I accuse playfully, picking up one of the decorative pillows and throwing it at him. He dodges it easily, damn bodyguard reflexes. “These were quite expensive.” I pout down at the ruined underwear and Harry just laughs before pressing a messy kiss to my cheek.   
“You can afford it, football star.”   
“I’m never buying panties for you again,” I grumble, pretending to be angry but how could I when Harry is laughing loudly, his head thrown back as he’s still sitting astride me, completely naked with my come on his stomach?   
“Aw, don’t say that. I have to admit, I’m quite fond of them.” Harry smirks, his long index finger prodding at one of the bruises he sucked into my lower stomach earlier and I buck my hips up to playfully try and shove him off. I don’t succeed, of course.   
“I hadn’t noticed, Mr. Styles,” I state dryly and Harry giggles, that giggle that always turns me into a pile of human mush. I smile fondly, but the soaked panties are really starting to become uncomfortable. Harry, obviously noticing my discomfort, shifts off of me and presses his lips to mine in a quick peck.  
“Boxers and a flannel?” he offers and I smile thankfully, giving him a thumbs up.  
“Go for it, tiger.” Harry’s arse is right in my face when he pushes himself off of the bed and I just can’t resist, I have to give him a nice little smack.   
“Louis Tomlinson, I’m shocked.” Harry gasps, mock-assaulted, and I fondly roll my eyes at him. He throws me a grin over his shoulders as he walks towards the bathroom, and -   
“Ow, fuck!” I double over in laughter, the vision of Harry lying on the ground like a naked starfish blurring behind the curtain of tears that begins to run down my cheeks. “Who the fuck leaves their book lying on the floor right next to the bed?!”

 

*

 

I wake up alone, the duvet tucked tightly around my body and I know this is Harry’s work, he knows I often get cold without his body to warm me. I stretch lazily, still feeling boneless and just the right amount of sore from our activities last night. I smile to myself like the cat that got the cream, because really, that panty experience has exceeded my wildest dreams.   
Today, though, I’m not going to go for any panties because playing football in them might be a bit uncomfortable so I keep my boxers on; though I do head to the closet and pull out one of Harry’s plaid shirts. It’s much too large on me, naturally, but the fabric is thick and the perfect barrier against the still cool morning air. I pad down into the kitchen, barefoot and just in Harry’s shirt, following the smell of eggs and bacon that fills the house.   
Harry is standing in front of the stove dressed in just his boxers, some socks and a plain black t-shirt, and he looks absolutely perfect with his hair thrown up in a lazy bun, curls escaping out of it and falling into his face. I quietly walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck.   
“Good morning, love,” I mumble the words into his skin, pressing close to his back to try and steal some of his warmth.   
“Hello, you.” Harry turns the stove off with a click and twists around in my arms, his hands landing lightly on my hips. He smiles, a beautiful, sleepy smile that makes his eyes crinkle and fuck. Sleepy Harry in the morning is just the cutest thing. He leans down for a kiss but doesn’t bend down far enough so I have to push myself up onto my tippy toes to reach his lips, holding onto his shoulders for support. I know he does it on purpose sometimes, because he finds it adorable that I’m so small. Pah.   
We eat breakfast on the sofa, Harry stretched out on it with me leaning against his chest, the news playing quietly on the TV. I feed Harry grapes, watch as they disappear behind his plump, pink lips and I just have to kiss him more often than not, kiss him until our lips go numb and our coffee has grown cold.   
“When’s training today?” Harry mumbles from behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me pulled against his chest. He yawns, trying to hide it in my neck and I chuckle, because _adorable_ as hell.  
“It’s at 4 today, a bit earlier than usual. You tired, Mr. Styles?” I tease, turning around to press a kiss to his temple and Harry nods sweetly, his arms tightening around me.   
“Someone kept me up late last night, very rude,” he complains with a smirk prominent on his face and I laugh quietly, my own lips quirking upwards at the memory of last night. Very rude indeed.  
“You should write them a letter of complaint,” I suggest and Harry chuckles before shaking his head, curls tickling my neck.  
“Nah, I’d rather have a nap with them. ‘s only 9.” Before I can say anything Harry lets himself fall flat onto the sofa, pulling me with him and I squeal in surprise as my body is pulled on top of Harry’s. I’m not complaining, though, not when Harry wraps his body around me, one of his legs sliding between mine, his chest against my back and his arms protectively slung around my chest. We barely fit onto the couch together but we make it work, curling up as tight as possible, entwining our bodies in the closest way and it’s so fucking perfect that my heart aches with it. It’s almost too good to be true, having a lazy morning with Harry, falling asleep on the sofa after a good breakfast and an even better night together.   
“Goodnight, Lou. Love you.” Harry lifts one of his hands to stroke my fringe out of my face so he can press a kiss to my temple, and as I listen to his tiny snores and feel his warmth seep into me, I can’t help but think, _yeah, I really really love you too._

  
*

“Hi Tom!” I wave at my friend at the other end of the hallway, Harry greeting him with a nod before we round the corner and walk towards the changing room. I feel Harry’s hand on my bum and hide a giggle behind my hand, my eyes quickly scanning the hallway to make sure that we’re alone.   
“No panties today, hm?” Harry teases, his fingers slipping under the elastic waistband of my topman boxers, pulling the fabric away from my back only to let it slap against my skin with a smacking sound. I jump, my hand reaching behind me to swat at his, and I turn around to face Harry with a wide grin.   
“I figured they’re not too practical for training. Too… flimsy.” Harry snuffles out a laugh, his tongue darting out to run over his bottom lip, his teeth biting into the wet skin. Hmm, I want to be the one to bite that lip.   
“Flimsy? More like too fucking hot.” I laugh, my elbow landing between Harry’s ribs in a gentle punch.   
“Glad you liked them, Mr. Styles. But I can’t let the other guys in the team have a heart attack when I change and they see my cock through sheer woman’s panties, right?”  
“Damn right,” he practically growls, a large hand reaching out to wrap around my wrist, his thumb tracing delicate patterns into my skin. He leans his body into me, plump lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “For my eyes only.” I shiver, a gasp leaving my mouth as he roughly bites into the skin just beneath my ear because _fuck_. With my pulse drumming loudly in my ears I reach for his hand and pull him into one of the smaller, thankfully empty changing rooms, the door falling shut behind us with a loud bang. I immediately go for him, pushing his body against the wall with my much smaller one, his hands winding around my back to pull me in, our heads tilting just in time for our lips to fuse together.   
“That was,” Harry starts but I shut him up with another kiss, my feverish hands running over the smooth skin of his stomach, the ripple of his toned muscles driving me insane. “so fucking hot. The panties,” he manages to pant, our lips just inches apart but I dive back in, needing to feel more of his lips against mine.  
“I’ll have to buy a few more pairs then,” I suggest breathlessly, my eyes never leaving Harry’s swollen lips as he breathes “yes please” before reconnecting our lips in a slow suck, our bodies melting together. I lazily link my leg around his to run my foot up his calf, his hands shoving up my shirt to draw mindless patterns into the warm skin just above my shorts. Harry hums into another kiss, a pleased sound that resonates through the thick air between us as I wrap my arms around his hips to slip my hand into the back pockets of his jeans, my palms lightly squeezing his bum. I completely lean my body against his until there’s no space left between us, our lips meeting again and again in slow, hazy kisses, my brain too fogged up to notice the door opening.   
“What the fuck?!”  
Harry and I jump apart, our lips parting with a loud slipping sound as we spin around to face the intruder with heating cheeks.   
“Louis, what the hell?” Tom yells, baffled eyes looking between me and Harry and my stomach drops completely. Fuck. From the look on Tom’s face there’s no doubt he saw me and Harry basically devouring each other, our flushed faces and swollen lips a clear proof of what was going on in here. I let my eyes snap to Harry, the horror on his face mirroring mine. All this time we managed to get away with it, with sneaking kisses in empty rooms or hallways, but now reality has caught up with us. We got caught.  
“Tom, I –” I start, my hands raising in a helpless gesture. “I can explain this.”   
“Oh, I sure hope you can. In my office, Louis. Styles, you wait here.” Tom orders, his voice harsh like I’ve never heard it before. I swallow audibly, my throat clicking dryly and I cough, my entire body trembling. I send Harry a last panicked glance that he returns before I follow Tom out of the room, the wild green of Harry’s eyes the last thing I see before the door falls shut.  
The walk to Tom’s office is silent, the hallways winding endlessly as I follow him like a scolded puppy, my head cast down and cheeks tinted in shame. I try not to panic, but the sound of my blood pounding madly through my ears drowns out any soothing thoughts I could’ve had. We got caught, by Tom of all people. How did that happen? We were so careful. Weren’t we?  
When we reach his office Tom sinks heavily into his chair, motioning for me to sit down opposite him and I do, the seat uncomfortably hard against my tensed body. I stay silent as he quietly fumbles with a few pens and sheets on his desk, waiting for him to say something.  
“Louis…what was that?” Tom finally meets my eyes for the first time since the incident and they’re soft, confused maybe and disappointed but not as cold as they were when he burst into the room.  
“Uh,” I start eloquently, my mind spinning a hundred miles a minute. How do I explain this? Where do I start?   
“I knew there was something going on between you two. I just knew it. But I didn’t want it to be true, so after the rumours I decided to play dumb and believe the story Harry told us. There’s no Amelie, is there?”   
“No, there isn’t.” I confirm quietly, my eyes set on my fiddling fingers in my lap. I can’t bear to look at him. He hums in response, a noise caught between disappointment and acceptance that has my eyes snap up to meet his.  
“I didn’t think you’d be so stupid, Louis.” Tom scolds, shaking his head from side to side as he looks at me with assessing eyes. He’s in his manager mode right now, and I know that if I want to get Harry and me out of this without problems I have to call for the part of him that is my friend, not my manager.  
“Stupid?” I question, willing my voice not to sound too harsh. Yelling at him really isn’t a good idea right now.  
“You’re in a business contract, Louis. You’re his client, this is illegal.” Tom states bluntly, disappointed eyes boring into my own. “I didn’t think you’d risk your career for a fling.” A fling? I gasp, my mouth hanging wide open. He thinks Harry is a fucking _fling_?  
“Tom, no. I…” Taking a deep breath I will my voice to be steady as I look him straight into the eyes. “I love Harry.” I watch with bittersweet amusement as Toms eyes widen, nearly popping out of his head in surprise as his jaw nearly hits the desk, a choked noise escaping him.   
“You….what?”  
“I love him. He loves me. This is not a fling.” I explain calmly, my own behaviour surprising me. But this is about our future, about Harry and me and I’ll be damned if I let my impulsive nature ruin it for us.  
“Love?” Tom chokes again, his face going so red that I fear for his health. “You’re in _love_? You?”  
“I know, I can’t quite believe it myself,” I admit with a small chuckle, my eyes snapping down to my hands again before I force myself to meet Tom’s expectant eyes again. “I never thought it’d happen to me.”  
“But Louis… how?” Tom wonders, disbelief clear in his wide eyes but I can tell that he’s letting his manager side slide, he’s turning into one of my closest friends again and I have to use that to my advantage. I have to try.  
“You know what I was like, Tom. All the parties, the drinking, the girls…” I flinch at the memory, the thought of being with a woman now so disgusting to me. “I was an idiot. God, all the fights we had about it. You proper kicked my ass all the time.” I laugh softly at the memory, Tom’s lips splitting into an answering grin and I relax slightly in my seat.  
“True, I did. You deserved to get your arse beaten, Tommo.” He chuckles, shaking his head fondly.  
“I did,” I agree with a laugh, my fingers nervously drumming against his desk. “But at the time I was happy. I liked the way my life was, I didn’t feel like anything was missing. But then Harry came along, and…” I trail off, too many emotions swirling in my chest when I think of Harry that I don’t know what to say, how to continue, my mind too overwhelmed with all the feelings inside my chest.  
“And?” Tom prompts gently, his bottom lip bitten into his mouth in nervous anticipation.  
“And everything changed.” I breathe, a fond smile lifting the corners of my lips as I remember the first time I saw Harry, standing there in the corner with a glass of orange juice in his hands, all tousled hair and endless limbs. “He… he’s so smart, Tom. So cultivated, the exact opposite of me. But he shows me things. He shows me art and museums and teaches me how to cook. He takes care of me, he makes me want to be… more.” I stop again, my throat closing in, emotion making swallowing impossible.  
“More?”   
“More.” I confirm, my voice tight. “He makes me want to be better, for him. Less of a superficial idiot. And he… he makes me so happy. We fought it at first, because of the legal issue. But we just couldn’t, we spent so much time together, and every time we saw each other it kept getting more and more intense. We… we fell in love, Tom.” I look up at him, tears prickling in the back of my eyes but I refuse to let them out. “I love him, and by some miracle he loves me, too. I’m in love with him, and at first it terrified me. I mean, he’s a man.” I state the obvious, a dry chuckle leaving my lips as I nervously wait for Tom’s reaction.  
“He is. But Lou, I’d be stupid not to see the change in you. You’re so much calmer, less restless. Less on edge. You’re content, you’re happy. You smile more, laugh more, your eyes are shining. It’s such a joy to see you like this. But… it’s still illegal, Louis.”   
“I know, Tom, I know. But…. Once the contract is over, which is in about four months, we want to make it official. I want to… I want to come out for him.”  
“You do?” Tom’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his mouth popping open again. I nod, nervously nibbling on my bottom lip but the choice is made. I don’t want to hide anymore, I don’t want to live in the constant fear of someone finding out. Tom is quiet for the longest time and I refuse to look away as he stares at me with scrutinising eyes, assessing me. Finally, he sighs deeply and a small smile spreads across his lips.  
“We better come up with a good PR plan for your big reveal, then.” And wait, what?  
“You… you’re supporting it?” I gasp, eyeing him with shock-slacked features.   
“Louis, if it’s really what you want, then yes, I’m supporting it. I hope you’re aware of what it might mean for your career, though?” He questions anxiously and I nod, knowing full well that gay footballers are still a touchy topic in the world of sports.   
“I know. But it’s worth it. He’s worth it.” My voice is firm, no doubts to be heard in it and Tom’s smile widens, his eyes glowing warmly. Suddenly he stands up, his chair scraping across the tiled floor as he rounds the table to walk over to me. Confused, I move to stand as well and I’m wrapped up in his arms, a surprised hum leaving my lips as he hugs me tight.  
“Okay. As your manager I’m mad as hell right now but as your friend, I’m so happy for you Louis. Of course I support you. I was so worried about you back then, and the change in you is incredible. If that’s all down to Harry, who would I be to stop you two?” Tom murmurs deeply and I nearly choke as I rest my head against his shoulder, relief making my knees feel weak.   
“Thank you. Thank you so so much, Tom.” We pull apart and he grins down at me with a gentle smile, his hand reaching out to encouragingly squeeze my shoulder. “Just keep it in your pants until the contract is over, and then we’ll figure something out, alright? Until then, please try not to get caught by someone else or things might get nasty. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” I close my eyes in relief, my heart feeling so light that I fear it might float away. All the fear I felt earlier, the panic that ran through me evaporates, leaving me with my head in the clouds.  
“I can’t thank you enough, Tom. You’re the best.” I reach out to pat him on the back and he smiles fondly before nodding towards the door of his office.  
“Go get your man.”

*

I yank the door to the changing room open and slip inside, firmly shutting it behind me. Harry immediately looks up and stops his restless pacing, a stormy look on his face that I don’t like at all.   
“He’s okay with it!” I yell before Harry has the chance to even open his mouth, my excitement bubbling over as I run to him and throw myself into his arms, my hands locked behind his back. “I talked to Tom and he’s happy for us! He won’t say a word and supports me coming out after the contract. Oh my god, I was so scared for a moment.” A laugh bubbles out of my mouth and into Harry’s chest as I nuzzle my face into the soft cotton of his shirt, the familiar smell of his washing powder and cologne hitting my nose.   
“Harry?” I frown when I notice he’s not hugging me back, his hands just lightly resting on my hips. Pulling away I look up at him to find his eyes still cloudy, regret and confusion dimming the usually bright green. “Did you hear what I just said?” I question, an unsettling feeling beginning to bubble in my stomach at the look on his face.   
“I did, yeah.” He confirms quietly and I release him to step back in confusion, my happiness melting away. Why is he not jumping around in joy then?  
“And you’re not happy about it?” I question, baffled. Harry sighs and steps away from me, one of his hands lifting to run through his hair in a nervous gesture, leaving the curls sticking up in all directions. My fingers twitch with the want to fix them for him but something tells me not to do it, so I stay put and just watch him with dread brooding inside my chest.  
“I am happy. Relieved. But I just… I’m just a bit shocked. That was so close. If it had been someone else, some other manager who’s not your friend…” Harry shivers at the thought, dread taking over his features and I frown, stepping towards him.   
“But that didn’t happen. It was Tom, and I told him we’re in love and he’s happy for us! He even said he’s going to help me come out once the contract is over.” I take another step towards him and try to pretend like it doesn’t break my heart when he steps back. “Harry, what’s wrong?” My voice drops to a whisper, fear running through my veins at full force. What is he thinking? Sighing, Harry runs his hands over his face, a desperate gesture that makes my heart pound harder in my chest.   
“I just… I can’t stop thinking about the risks, Louis.” His voice is quiet, emotionless. Cold.   
“We just have to be careful, Harry. It’s only four months until the contract is over.” Harry laughs, a cold, humourless laugh that raises goosebumps on my skin.   
“That’s what we always say, isn’t it? To be more careful? But it’s not working, Lou.”   
“What… what do you mean, Harry?” I dare to ask, my voice barely audible in the empty room. It can’t be what I think it is, right? He wouldn’t…  
Harry turns to face me with a small smile on his face, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He steps towards me, one of his hands coming to rest on my arm, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into my bicep. Something in his voice makes me want to pull away from his touch, but I don’t. I couldn’t possibly.  
“Louis, maybe it's better if we stop this for a while. At least until the contract is over.” Harry starts tentatively, carefully, and wait, _what_? My heart stutters painfully in my chest, ice cold chills running down my back.   
"Stop...stop what?" I manage to ask, my voice paper thin as fear curses through me, so strongly that I fear it might break me. He can't mean what I think he does can he?   
"Stop what we have going on here." No. No no no. Please, no.  
"Stop us?" I breathe, my voice breaking over the last word and I see Harry flinch, his eyes clouding even more. He nods, a quick, determined nod that shatters my world into a thousand pieces. No. No no no. This can't be happening. This can't be real. God, _no_.  
"But why? Harry, Tom is fine with it! I talked to him, he understands and he's not going to tell anyone, I know that. I don't get why...” I yell, the words tumbling out of my mouth without me really noticing, my mind too stunned and clouded by sheer panic to still have control over my actions.  
“If Tom can find out so can others. It's too dangerous, Louis.” Harry interrupts me gently, his grip on my arm tightens as he looks down at me with an apologetic look in his eyes that makes me physically sick.  
"Then we just have to be more careful!" I yell again, refusing to give this up just like that. He's everything to me, everything I have and everything I ever wanted. I won't let him go.  
"Louis, stop. This doesn't make any sense anymore. The risks...no. It's better if we...stop right here. At least for a while.” Looking into his beautiful face I realise that he's dead serious. He's determined. He's giving up on us, on me. _Please, Harry. Don't,_ I think weakly, my body going limp as I lean against the wall for support.  
"So you give us up? Just like that?" I whisper, feeling ice cold. All the 'I love you's', all the kisses we shared, every moment we spent together - it was all in vein then? Was it all a lie?  
"You said it yourself, it’s me. I turned your life upside down and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that." _No no no, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me_ , a voice inside my head screams, my temples throbbing. Something about the way he apologises for coming into my life hurts the most, it’s like he doesn’t feel that what we have is amazing. He feels like it’s something he needs to apologise for, something bad, and the thought makes me want to throw up. How can he think like that when he’s the best for me? When he makes me so incredibly happy?  
“And so what, you make a mess and now you’re just going to leave?” I hiss, anger rising in my chest that he’s willing to throw us away just like that.  
“Louis, I don’t want to ruin your future. I’m not worth losing your career over.” _You’re wrong, you’re worth everything._   
“Don’t you think that’s my decision to make?” I bite back, slipping into defence mode, my anger hiding the hurt and desperate panic I feel inside.  
“I’m making this decision for you. It’s for the best, Lou.” His voice is soft, calming, and somehow the use of that nickname breaks something inside of me. I push away from him, blinking frantically to stop the tears from spilling over, and sink down on one of the benches, my hands clasped in front of my face to stop them from shaking. I can’t believe this is happening. How is this real?  
"But I love you. I love what we have. How can letting it go be for the best?" I wonder, gazing up at him, silently begging for an explanation, for something to hold onto to stop my free fall. I watch as pain flickers across his face, darkening his eyes and furrowing his brows, and something inside of me sags in relief. He still cares. As long as he still does I can go on, somehow. But I have to know for sure.   
"Do you still love me Harry? Please, please say that you love me." I beg, blinking up at him and much to my horror a single tear escapes, the warm salty water slowly running down my cheek. Sucking in a sharp breath Harry squeezes his eyes shut, his face twisted in pain, and then he sinks down onto his knees in front of me and reaches out to wipe the tear away before it can fall, long fingers moving gently over my skin in a familiar gesture.  
"I love you, Louis Tomlinson." he assures me, his deep voice syrupy slow, sincere eyes meeting mine and I sigh, both in relief and in pain. He loves me. He still loves me, thank god. But if he loves me…  
"Then why do you leave me?"   
A small, gentle smile tugs at his lips but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Because it's better for you." Standing up he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, plump lips lingering against my skin like they have so many times before and I close my eyes, savouring each and every moment, every second, savouring the feeling of his lips until he's gone. And when the door falls shut behind him, my heart finally breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me, please?
> 
> ____________________________
> 
> As you may or may not have seen this story will have around 30 chapters, they're all planned out but not written yet so things might change a bit, but it'll be +- 30. I hope you're as excited for these upcoming chapters as I am, thank you so much for your amazing support so far. You're the bestest x


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First off, a massive massive MASSIVE thank you for over 10k hits. You guys are blowing my mind and the response to this story has been unreal, I’m so amazed by all of you. Thank you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and forgive me for the heartbreak, but there’s still loads to come in the last chapters so please don’t hate me too much.  
> I love you all a lot, have an amazing day/night wherever you are. 
> 
> Oh, by the way, I’ve made a tumblr. I haven’t quite figured out how tumblr works but I’m bravely working my way through it, and I think I’m getting there. So if you want to have a chat or exchange Larry edits that will make us cry, please come talk to me.  
> It’s http://myheroiscurly.tumblr.com/ of course, since I’m myheroiscurly pretty much everywhere. 
> 
> I hope you’re all well, stay sweet.  
> Lily x

It’s funny how life goes on, even if you don’t want it to. Hour after hour passes, days adding up to weeks, even if you’re not doing anything. Even if you’re miserable and broken, time passes. It never stops to give you a break, to let you recover, it keeps going and going, giving you more and more time to suffer. It just doesn’t stop.

I sigh heavily, a long gush of air leaving my lips as I pull my jersey over my head, the soft cotton familiar on my skin. It’s a day like every other, the sun is shining and everyone’s exchanging laughs and smiles, and I’m standing here in the corner of our changing room, focused on tying my shoes and not falling apart. It’s hard, though, not to fall apart after everything that happened in the last two weeks. I try my best, I really do, but there are moments when it just becomes too much and I break, break into a thousand little pieces and as I watch myself fall apart I wonder how I’m ever supposed to find all those tiny shards to stick myself back together.

 

_We had a game on Sunday and Tom, not knowing about our breakup, sent Harry to pick me up. So he was there when I left the house, waiting in his Range Rover just like he did so many times before, the large black car parked next to my Audi. I knew the smell of the leather seats and the sound of the engine, knew how high I had to jump to hop into the car, knew just how hard to tug so the door would gently fall close instead of slamming shut, which would earn me a frown from Harry. I knew Fleetwood Mac would be playing on the radio, or another one of those bands nobody knows but him. I knew it all, by heart, because it had happened so, so many times before._  
_This time, though, I didn’t run towards him with a skip in my step but crawled forward slowly, one step at a time, my duffle bag clutched so tightly in my hands that the handles left angry red marks over my palms. I didn’t hop into the passenger’s seat like I always used to, and I didn’t lean across the console to kiss him or run my lips across his light stubble. Instead I just slid into the car without a word, both of us hiding behind large sunglasses._  
 _I couldn’t look at him, not properly. Couldn’t look at what I lost, so I just cast a glance at him from out of the corner of my eye. We exchanged weak smiles, grimaces more than anything, and stared ahead out of the windshield, watching the London roads pass by without so much as looking at each other again. The radio was cranked up high, some indie band that I know Harry likes singing about how_ ‘[ no one is ever gonna love you more than I do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKRdIz763-A)’, _and yeah._  
 _It was all too much, Harry quietly humming along to the song next to me and a very, very small part of me wondered if maybe, just maybe he chose the song on purpose. But no, that couldn’t be it. He left me. I know for a fact that no one will ever love him like I did, like I do. Like I always will. So all-consuming, so complete. He said he loves me still, but surely he can’t love me as much as I love him if he can leave me just like that. I could never leave him, I know that. And fuck, it hurts to be the one who loves more._

_With a shaking hand I reached out to the radio and turned the volume down a little, unable to listen to **we're reeling through an endless fall** or **things start splitting at the seams and now, it’s tumbling down**. They were too fitting, the lyrics, too damn fitting for me to listen any longer. Because, yes, it’s splitting at the seams. Or is it broken already? _

_The hardest part was sitting in the car with him, when his cologne slowly filled the small space between us and I had to crank open the window, letting the rainy London air hit my face just so I didn't choke. It hurt, it hurt beyond belief to be so close to him but to know how far away he really is. Out of reach. It took everything I had not to reach out and put my hand on his thigh like I always used to do during long car rides. I couldn’t look at him like I did before, staring at his beautiful profile until his lips quirked up when he noticed my stare but kept his eyes on the road and pretended not to. I couldn't look at him at all, not when all I wanted to see was love but all I could find in his eyes was goodbye._

 

_So I went back to what I had before him, however dull it may be, because nothing else is left for me. All the evenings of cooking together and cuddling on the sofa and falling asleep to the sound of his breathing, they're all gone, ripped away from me and it hurts so much more at night, when my bed is too big and too empty and the sheets are too cold. I wake up drenched in sweat every night, my hands stiff from gripping the sheets too tightly for hours upon hours to try to anchor me to something, anything. They’re not necessarily horrible, my dreams. The problem is that they’re not. They’re collages of Harry and me, all wrapped up in each other on the sofa, kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower, walking through the forest in Donny, hand in hand with my sisters running ahead of us. They’re wonderful and sweet and everything I ever wanted. And they’re everything I’ve lost.  
So I wake up every night with a gaping hole in my chest and sweat trickling down my back, and it hurts. But it doesn't only hurt at night. People say that apparently screaming and sobbing into your pillow at two a.m. is the romantic equivalent to being heartbroken, but sometimes it's 9 in the morning and I'm standing in the kitchen waiting for the toast to pop and the smell of dusty morning sunlight and coffee makes me miss him so much I don't know what to do with my hands. _

_**We are the ever-living ghost of what once was.** _

 

_But the dreams were the worst. And it got worse and worse, it got to the point where just the thought of going to bed had my hands shake with undiluted fear. Fear of seeing all the wonderful moments I had with him only to have my empty bed and cold sheets remind me that it’s all gone. So I don't let myself dream. I don't let myself sleep so I can't dream. Instead, I drink myself into blissful oblivion, because the image of green eyes and smiling plump lips is so haunting that it makes my entire body shiver.  
I’m looking for a cure, for something to erase the memory of those eyes and lips from my mind and the one solution I found is alcohol. I go to the club almost every night, more excessively than ever before. Either with the lads from footie or all by myself, picture after picture of me stumbling around London’s empty streets at night end up on the tabloids almost every morning, but I don’t care. I don’t want to dream, I don’t want to think or speak or remember, and so I drink. Drink until my blood turns to alcohol and I can’t hear my own thoughts, until green eyes blur to a smudge of emerald and then into soothing blackness._

 

 

“Louis?” I slowly lift my head to see Terry standing in the doorway, the movement extra slow to avoid making the pounding headache in my temples worse. They pain has been sitting there for days, a result of too much whiskey and too little sleep or food. I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to make it through training today without throwing up or collapsing, but here’s to trying, I guess.  
“Yeah?” I croak, my voice hoarse and cracking like last night’s alcohol burned my vocal chords. Or maybe it’s all the crying. Or the screaming. Whatever it is, it makes my voice come out in a broken mess and I watch as Terry’s face twists and smoothes into the mask of poorly concealed pity that everyone seems to be wearing around me lately. They all notice that something is wrong, but they know better than to ask me about it.  
“Can you bring these into locker room 3? You’re the only one dressed.” He holds out a stack of jerseys and I nod, completely on autopilot as I grab the shirts and head through the hallways, familiar and blurring in front of my eyes as I shuffle from room to room, blank walls melting to a blur of grey in my mind. Nothing stands out. Nothing makes sense. My hand is shaking when I reach out to push the door open, but it’s nothing new. My hands are always shaking these days, I don’t remember the last time I looked at them to find them perfectly still. Probably the last time they were held in Harry’s larger ones.

The door opens slowly, a creak to it that echoes through the empty room, but the gush of air the movements brings with it swirls up layers of dust that have gathered on the benches and lockers. This room is barely used, I remember now that I force myself to think about it. The perfect place for secret romantic getaways.

Fuck.  
No.

No no no.

I gasp, blood throbbing against my temples, rushing through my veins at a sickening speed that makes me feel dizzy. Secret Getaways.  
Getaways.

The stack of jerseys hits the ground with a soft thud, more dust rising and sparkling warmly in the summer light as it floats through the air, clogging my throat and stinging my eyes and I blink rapidly, my gaze set on the wall next to the door. Where we had our last kiss. Two weeks ago, against this very wall. In this very room. Fuck, we were so happy. I was so incredibly, indescribably happy. Laughing and giggling into Harry’s mouth while he held me tight, kept me pressed against his chest, gentle hands moving over my body in a secret promise to never let me go.  
Just an hour later he did.

A sob racks through my body and I stumble backwards, blinded by the wall of tears falling from my eyes but I can still see it, the image of Harry and me against the wall, all wrapped up in each other and it burns, burns my mind and my heart and I turn around, stumble away from it in blind panic. My foot gets tangled in the jerseys and I’m falling, hard and fast, my body colliding with the ice cold ground with a sickening force.  
I don’t get back up. Don’t have the strength to get back up, not in here, not while I’m staring at the very same bench I sat on two weeks ago, with Harry promising he loves me. He doesn’t love me. Did he ever? I don’t know. I don’t know anything, don’t want to know anything. I want to forget, and at the same time I don’t. I don’t want to forget him, god I don’t. But how can I remember when all it does is tear me apart?  
I curl up on the ground, hugging my knees to my chest, fingers digging into the meat on my calves as I cling to the pain it causes, desperate to distract myself from the aching throbbing of my heart. Harry and me, we’re in here, everywhere. Against the wall, on the bench, in every ray of light and every grain of dust in the air and I can’t breathe. There’s no air left for me, it’s all filled with memories and the happiness and sadness of what once was and I can’t breathe, I don’t even know if I still want to. Because Harry left me. He left, he promised he wouldn’t but he ran from me and I love him and I am nothing without him and it all crashes down upon me in a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under. I hug my knees even tighter against the pain spreading from my chest all the way through my trembling body, sobs wrecking through it and shaking my down to the very core as I press my cheek against the cold tiles and try to breathe, to suck in much needed air but the air is too thick and too thin at the same time so I gasp, breathlessly, choking on my own tears.

“Louis?” I barely register the words, the pounding of my blood the only sound audible over the irregular pattern of my pathetic gasps, but I do feel the cold hand on my forehead as my arms are pried away from my sides. A stronger set of arms replaces them, but they’re not the arms I love. I don’t want these arms, but I’m too weak to protest. I still can’t breathe, and the air still left inside me is too precious to be wasted on fighting against these arms.  
“Louis, can you hear me? Look at me, Lou, please.” A pair of hands lands on my shoulder and shakes me gently, my slack body following the movement easily. I don’t know who the voice belongs to, don’t know what the voice is saying. All I know is that Harry left me.  
“He’s not breathing properly, Tom,” a panicked voice whispers but the panic is nothing to the storm raging inside my chest, so I don’t acknowledge them. Just stare ahead, eyes focused on the bench I sat on when my whole world fell apart and the tears won’t stop falling, my heart won’t stop breaking. Why can’t it be over?  
“I know, Terry, I know. He’s having a panic attack, I think.” Another voice whispers, and if I had any air left I would laugh. A panic attack? No. I’m not having a panic attack. I’m finally giving up.  
Spots of darkness begin to cloud my vision and the pounding inside my head gets stronger, more persistent, and I almost welcome the darkness. Darkness is good to me. It makes me forget. It gives me peace.  
“I’ll call Harry.”  
No. No. I scream, a silent, broken groan that barely leaves my chapped lips as I use all my strength to break free from Terry’s hold, but I don’t succeed. Not Harry. I need to leave. I can’t see him now. I’m too defenceless to face him now.  
“No,” I whimper, barely registering Tom turning away from us with his phone pressed to his ear as Terry shakes me, trying to shake me out of my panic, trying to shake some sense into me but there is no sense, there is nothing but panic and pain and shattered pieces. “No Harry, no. Please, no,” I gasp, hiccups mixing in between the words and the tears and I’m not sure if Terry even understands me, if he can hear what I’m saying but I need him to understand. I need him to understand that I can’t see Harry. Not him.  
“He’s already on his way, should be here any minute.” Tom turns back to us and grabs my hands, ignoring my futile attempts at pulling them away.  
“Louis, hey. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay, do you hear me? Just breathe,” Tom soothes, his voice warm and smooth and it cuts right through me like a knife. Because nothing will be okay, can’t he see that?  
“No Harry. No,” I whisper weakly, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my lungs still screaming for air as my two friends watch me with worried eyes. They don’t say anything else, just hold my hands and hold me and it should be soothing, but it’s suffocating instead.

And then the door bursts open. Sunlight spills into the room, and with it comes an angel. An angel so beautiful that my heart breaks with the beauty of it. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions and I can picture it perfectly, the agitated motion with which he ran his hands through it while driving here. His face is flushed, probably from running from the car park to the stadium, and I can see the pure panic in his eyes. They’re a piercing green, searing right through me.  
He doesn’t move just yet, just stands in the doorway with his hands extended in front of him, and I notice that they’re shaking, just like mine. Always shaking. Slowly, so slowly he steps closer, boots crunching on the dusty tiles as he moves towards me, and I recoil. I can’t help it, my body instantly flinches backwards, away from the man that I love with everything I have because he broke everything I used to be. His face falls, goes completely slack and body slumping as he takes in my reaction, all the colour leaving his cheeks.  
“Louis,” he starts, and oh god. That voice, and the way it says my name. It’s too much.

I bolt.

I don’t know how or when or why but I run, run right past him and out of the door, through the winding hallways and into the mercilessly flashing light of the setting sun. I hear heavy footsteps behind me but I’m faster, have always been just a tad bit faster than everyone else and it’s what saves me now. I don’t know how my body has the strength but it runs, tears blurring my vision but I run. Away from the stadium, away from Harry, away from myself. I don’t know where I’m going but I end up racing down the steps to the tube, my feet moving so incredibly fast that I don’t know how I manage not to fall. I push through the barrier behind an older man, not having a ticket or card whatsoever, and ignore the angry glance the tube staff shoots me. They follow after me, too, but again I’m too fast. I stumble down the remaining steps and into the train, the doors shutting behind me, shutting me off from the world as I dive into London’s endless black underground tunnels, swallowing me and surrounding me in darkness. Occasionally, a light flickers here and there, but apart from that it’s completely black outside. It should be scary, really, the thought of driving through a small tunnel dug underneath the city, but I don’t feel scared. I don’t feel anything.  
There are a few other people on the train but I barely register their confused glances, instead focus on the darkness outside. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of my reaction in the window, all ruffled hair and pale, tear stained cheeks, bitten and chapped lips that tremble wildly. It’s cold down here, I realise only when I spot the goosebumps on my bare arms. I’m still in my football gear, just a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved jersey and London’s late summer isn’t enough to keep me warm, but I barely feel the shivers running through my body. I have been freezing for weeks. Station after station passes by, the announcements in the train and the squeaking doors blurring to a string of sounds that doesn’t reach my mind, bright colours flashing and sending a pounding ache through my head whenever we stop at a station, people coming and going in a mass of faces that I don’t see.

Eventually I stumble off the train in Hammersmith, a name that sounds vaguely familiar though I’ve never actually been here to but that’s good, right? No memories here. This is safe. Hammersmith looks pretty unspectacular, the same shops and pubs that you find in almost every corner of London, the same people rushing around with a cup of coffee to go in their hands and phones in their faces, typing away hastily. I wonder who they’re talking to. Friends, family? Their boyfriends?  
My fingers twitch inside my pocket, longing to reach for my phone to scroll through all the conversations I had with Harry, the teasing and the loving messages we sent almost every day, no matter if we saw each other in the afternoon we always had to reach out to each other, to be in some kind of contact. Now there’s no contact at all. I realise belatedly that I left my phone in my bag at the stadium, along with my wallet. Of course. Just typical of me. But then again, it might be a good thing, because I am free for now. Nobody can contact me, nobody knows where I am because in all honesty, I don’t even know myself. I’m just walking, aimlessly, passing through roads and parks without a destination in mind and it feels good not to have any plans, to just exist and float around like a feather, walking to wherever the roads take me.

Eventually I reach the Thames, flooding calmly in front of me, cutting sharply through a mass of houses and roads like glistening liquid gold, shimmering in the light of the setting sun. I sit down on the wall separating the river from the roads and pull my knees to my chest again, a soft breeze ruffling my fringe and blowing it into my face. I don’t push it back, because there is nothing here that I need or want to see. I don’t understand why he left me. He promised he still loves me, so how can he just turn away from me? I could never leave him like that, never. I have this constant need to be around him, to touch him and feel him next to me, even if we’re not really doing anything. I need him around me to feel complete, and now that he’s gone I haven’t been whole for weeks. There’s a gaping hole inside my chest, but it’s more than just that. He’s not just missing, he’s missing from me. Like eyesight, like a limb torn off. He’s a part of me, of my body and of my life and I cannot function properly without him. Maybe I cannot function at all.  
He’s the first person that I ever loved, the first person I ever fell in love with. And god, did it frighten me. I was terrified, because love was this massive, big construct that I didn’t really understand and didn’t know, and it scared me like nothing else ever did. But then it was easy, because he loved me too and we loved together and grew together and found our way, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. How do I go on now that it’s all gone?  
A shaky breath pushes past my lips and I raise my hand to wipe across my cheek, not at all surprised to find fresh tears on my skin. Because I miss him, and it hurts, every day, always.

I don’t know for how long I sit here, watching the last rays of light dance across the Thames until there are no more, until the sun has disappeared behind the buildings and the street lights have been switched on. The roads are emptier now, some people stumbling through the streets every now and then, looking pale and rugged and lost, like me. I wonder if they’re hurting, too, if they were left, if their hearts were broken too. I pass a crying girl sitting on the sidewalk with her phone clutched in her hands and I almost ask her if her boyfriend left, too, but then she wipes her face and stands up with a determined smile on her face and I’m intimidated, because smiling is something I can’t ever imagine doing.  
So I don’t talk to her and instead continue my way through the city, in search of a tube station or bus stop. I end up walking up Kensington High Street, posh spotless white houses lining the roads, TV lights flickering through the windows and spilling onto the road, illuminating my path. It’s growing colder and impossibly darker outside, but I like the feeling of my toes and fingers getting numb, numb like my chest.  
So I keep on walking like that, the cleats on my shoes digging into my feet uncomfortably but it’s not like I have any other way to get home, I don’t have any money on me and I also can’t call anyone to pick me up. I suppose I could ask someone if I could use their phone, but I quite enjoy walking through nocturnal London, when the roads are empty and naked, exposed without the flashing lights and masses of people that usually crowd them and bring them to life. The city can’t hide tonight, so empty and forgotten. It’s almost like London is lonely, and I am too.

I sigh in relief when the familiar lights of Hampstead sparkle in the nearer distance, because I can’t feel my fingers and my feet hurt like hell. I’ve not had anything to eat or drink for hours, and all I’m looking for is a quick sandwich and a cool beer before I fall into bed. I’ve got a spare key hidden in a flowerpot outside, and all I want to do is sleep. I’ll deal with the rest of the world tomorrow.  
I unlock the door with shaking hands, shaking from physical and mental exhaustion, and push it open with weak force. The key slips out of my hands as soon as I do, clattering to the floor. My duffle bag sits in the hallway, next to my coat rack, my phone and keys neatly lined up on top of the dresser. Light is coming from the kitchen, a voice booming through the open door and echoing through the rooms.  
“I don’t know Tom, I don’t fucking know! We’ve searched the entire city, it’s nearly three A.M, where the fuck is he?” I know that voice, know it by heart. It’s the voice of my greatest dreams and biggest nightmares, the voice that I’d recognise anywhere. But never, ever have I heard it so desperate. I quietly slip out of my shoes, steading my trembling body with a hand on the wall as I grab a sweater from the dresser and pull it on, my body longing for warmth after being out in the cold all night. I don’t quite know what to make of this, my mind too fuzzy and numb to fully realise that Harry is here, in my house, talking to Tom on the phone, wondering where I am. I still haven’t come up with a plan, a way to prepare myself, to build up a barrier when Harry speaks up again, voice wrecked but wary. “Hang on, Tom, I think…” he trails off, his voice replaced with the sound of footsteps coming closer, closer and then he’s there, a tall figure in the doorway, casting a shadow over me that makes me shiver.

He looks beautiful and pale, a stubble dusting his hollow cheeks, deep purple rings clinging to the skin beneath his eyes, hair dishevelled and clothes rumpled. So beautiful. I watch in fascinated horror as his entire body goes slack, slumps against the doorframe for support when he sees me, his head dropping as he runs a hand over his face. He looks so tired.  
“He’s here,” Harry whispers into the phone, his voice paper thin, barely carrying across the space between us. “Thank God he’s here.” He nods at something Tom says, his eyes never leaving mine, exhausted green burning into wrecked blue and I feel panic rising within me, because these eyes mean so much. So, so much, everything, and I’ve lost it all.  
I want to run again but this time I can’t move, am hypnotised by their stare as I stand frozen in the hallway, watching as Harry promises to call Tom back and then stuffs his phone into his pocket. He heaves a huge breath, shoulders slumping even more as he looks me up and down, and the relief on his face when he can’t find any obvious injuries is overwhelming. Carefully, slowly, with his hands raised in front of him as if to soothe me he moves towards me, every step increasing the violent rhythm of my heartbeat.  
“Lou,” he breathes, the nickname slicing through my heart like a sharpened knife and I flinch, but I cannot move. “Lou, where have you been?” he questions carefully, stopping a few feet away from me and I don’t know if I’m supposed to be relieved or disappointed, because I want nothing more than to have him close but I know it wouldn’t be healthy for me.  
I can’t speak, so I just shrug weakly, a noncommittal noise leaving my lips as I drop my stare to the ground, unable to look at him any longer. The air in the room is getting thicker with every minute that passes, with every second I spend in his presence and I can feel the familiar knot forming in my throat, threatening to choke me like it did earlier today.  
“Are you…” he starts again and steps closer, always closer, a careful spark in his eyes as he studies me, dread filling his eyes and darkening the green that I love so much. “Are you okay?”

And, no. I gasp, the question hitting me right inside the chest where it hurts the most, gripping my heart with ice cold fingers and pulling pulling pulling until it is ripped out of my chest and lying beside me, bleeding. Am I okay? How can he ask that, just like that? So casually? When I haven’t slept properly for two weeks, when I can’t eat or think or breathe because I love him and he left me, because he doesn’t want me though he’s all I need?  
No, I want to scream, I am not okay. I am not okay because I love you and you’re everything to me and you say you love me too but it’s not enough to be with me. I’m not okay without you, nothing makes sense without you, my life is perpetual darkness, every step I take feels like hell without you and I don’t know if I’ll ever get through this. I’m not okay, because I hurt and cry and scream every day and with every passing hour things get worse.  
I want to scream, to show him how much I’m hurting, to show him what I’ve done, but I can’t. It’s too much, my breakdown earlier, being around him now, so close that I can smell his cologne and it’s burning me from the inside, and I’m so fucking drained that I just can’t go on.  
Two weeks of too little food and sleep and too much alcohol catch up with me and I feel my mind going fuzzy, the vision of Harry’s beautiful, frantic face blurring as I stumble forwards, intending to get to the living room so I can lie down on the sofa but I don’t get that far. My feet catch on the rug in the hallway and I can feel myself falling, my mind finally shutting off after all the misery of today, my thoughts turning into blissful silence. I feel two large hands wrap around my waist, strong arms catching me before I crash to the ground and then I’m held in a warm embrace as Harry sinks to the floor with me in his arms, his smell and warmth and strength all around me and I sink into it, too weak to protest as my mind keeps drifting off, my body unmoving in his arms.  
“Fuck, Lou,” Harry breathes, the words getting lost in my skin as he buries his face in my hair, clinging to me like I’m the one his life depends on. But that doesn’t make any sense, because he doesn’t feel like that. I’m not enough. “What did I do to you?” And he sounds so regretful, his voice so raw and breaking that it tears out another piece of my heart, an untouched piece that I didn’t know I had left because even though he left me I still can’t bear to see him in pain. I feel his cheek pressed against my temple, the skin wet and salty from silent tears, stuttering breaths hitting my neck and it doesn’t make any fucking sense. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I should feel hopeful because of his reaction but I don’t have the strength to feel anything.  
“What did I do…” You broke me, Harry, I think weakly, my mind drifting off further and further, taking me to a peaceful, quiet place. But it’s okay. It’s okay, I love you still. And so I keep my eyes closed and let the darkness wash over me.

 

* * *

 

 

 

I wake up alone, tucked into my bed with the duvet wrapped around me in the way Harry does so I won’t get cold during the night, a juice and a fresh muffin sitting on the bedside table. The house is empty, all traces of Harry gone apart from the memories of last night that haunt my mind. I’m weak and shaky, my entire body trembling but I don’t have it in me to eat the breakfast Harry brought me. It just doesn’t feel right, so instead I shuffle down to the kitchen and drink some water straight from the tab. Two slices of dry toast follow and I feel a little less dizzy, so I reach for my phone that still sits on top of the dresser in the hallway where Harry left it.  
Harry.  
I know something has to change. If yesterday was any indication it’s not an option for me to be around him, it hurts too much. I can’t do this again, and I think I know one way to ensure that I won’t have to see him anytime soon. So I call Tom.  
  
“Oh, Louis.” Tom sighs into my shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, hugging me to him. I hum high in my throat, surprised, but he just hugs me tighter and squeezes me before letting go. There’s a look of unconcealed worry on his face and it nearly brings me to tears again, seeing my friend worry about me so much.  
“Well, yeah.” I manage a weak smile and hold the door open for him. “Want to come in?”  
We settle onto the sofa with a bottle of beer each and sit in silence for a while, sipping our drinks while wondering how to start this conversation. Eventually, Tom puts his beer down and speaks up.  
“So, where were you yesterday?” He questions carefully, his eyes scanning my face and I shrug before taking another sip of my beer.  
“In London. Walked around for a bit, got lost, you know?” I explain vaguely, not really wanting to relive yesterday’s emotions.  
“Until 3 in the morning? We were going out of our minds, Louis! Harry was worried sick.” Tom yells, concern and anger making his voice rise and I flinch, the bottle slipping from my hands and clattering to the ground. Luckily it doesn’t break. I stare down at the bottle on the spotless white tiles of my living room but I don’t really see them, all I see is Harry’s face. He was worried sick. About me. It doesn’t make sense.  
“This is about him, isn’t it?” It isn’t a question, I can hear it in the resignation in Tom’s voice, so I just nod, unable to look him in the eye. There’s another silence between us, stretching on and on but I don’t know how to break it, don’t know anything these days.  
“What happened?” Tom asks eventually, his voice flat, hesitant. I sigh and twist the bottle in my hands, watching the last few drops of beer slosh around in it.  
“He left me.” I barely get the words out. They burn, threaten to tear out my heart and tear me apart but somehow, I manage to say it. I hear Tom gasp, his eyes widening in shock.  
“He… what? But, no. Louis…” He starts and I chuckle, a strained, painful sound that feels odd on my tongue. Because yeah, I don’t understand it either. “That doesn’t make any sense!” he yells, frustrated, and my chuckle dies down.  
“I don’t understand it either, but…” I shrug, desperately trying to appear casual but I can feel the familiar sting of tears in my eyes.  
“Louis, that man loves you.” Tom leans closer, his hand squeezing my knee and my eyes snap up to meet his and they’re so urgent and sincere that I can almost believe his words. “He was going out of his mind when we couldn’t find you yesterday. He loves you, I’m certain.”  
“If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left.” I spit, bitter disappointment tinting my voice and I jerk my knee away from Tom’s touch, unable to bear any touch but Harry’s.  
“Why did he leave? Did he give you any reason why?” Tom queries, his voice soft.  
“It was…” I take a deep breath and turn back to face him, hoping that I’ll make it through telling this story. I’ve never tried before, always stopped my thoughts before they reached that point, the actual day of the breakup. “It was after you caught us kissing. I was so happy, because you knew and we had your support and I thought it could finally work out. But Harry… he didn’t want to take the risk. Said if you can catch us, others can too. He doesn’t want me to get in trouble for what we have, so he decided it’s best to… end what we had going on.” I whisper the last part, still holding on to a tiny foolish hope that it was all a bad dream and I’ll wake up with his arms around me and his hair tickling my neck.  
Tom smiles, a sad smile that tugs up the corners of his mouth, and his voice is soft when he speaks up.  
“He really does love you, then.” I want to protest, but Tom cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head. “He’s letting you go in order to protect you. It might not be the best way, but he’s noble, I have to give him that.”  
“His nobility fucking broke my heart, Tom.” I spit, slamming the bottle down on the table. The sound echoes harshly through the room, making us both flinch.  
“Have you tried to talk to him?”  
“No, I haven’t. What can I say? I tried to get him to change his mind that day but he was so determined. He thinks it’s for the best.”  
“And you don’t?”  
I bark out a breathless laugh, shaking my head at Tom in a frantic motion.  
“Of course not. I love him. I don’t want to be apart from him.” But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because being apart is apparently exactly what he wants, and this halfway thing going on at the moment doesn’t work for me. Having him around, seeing him at the games, it only makes it harder for me to accept the fact that he’s no longer mine. It has to be all or nothing, and since I can’t have it all I know I have to put the total distance between us that he apparently wants and I dread. But I know it’ll be healthier for me to not see him at all, even if the thought alone makes me physically sick.  
“Tom, I need you to do something for me.” I start, waiting for Tom’s reaction. He nods, signaling me to go on.  
“I can’t… I can’t see him anymore. I know the contract’s still running for a few months but I can’t be around him, I can’t see him and know he’s not mine. It’s too cruel.” Tom nods again, tentatively stroking his chin.  
“You want me to find a way to get him away from you without ending the contract?”  
“Yeah. I want – I still want him to get his money, you know? He… it’s not just his fault, and the contract’s still on so I don’t… I don’t want to break it. I just, I really can’t see him, Tom.” I look down at my hands folded tightly in my lap and realise my jeans are getting too wide for my thinning thighs. I really need to eat more, but…  
“I know, Lou. I understand. We… we could just do that, I guess. Let the contract run along but Harry won’t actually work. It’s only a handful of months left anyway, isn’t it?”  
“Yeah,” I breathe, my throat tightening. In a few months I would’ve come out for you, I think weakly and can’t help but chuckle at my stupidity. I would’ve given up everything for him, if he’d asked. But instead he left.  
“Let’s do it, then. Hang in there, Lou.” Tom puts a comforting arm around my shoulders and hugs me to his chest and it’s nice, to have the comfort of a friend. It doesn’t heal the ache in my heart, but it gives me a tiny bit of hope that one day I won’t feel like I’m falling apart.  
And maybe, just maybe it could be okay like this. Maybe I could go on like this, if I won’t have to see him, maybe I’ll be able to breathe and go on with life. Maybe life will get better.

Or maybe it won't.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait, but Uni and Christmas and ugh. I'm home for Christmas and New Year's though, so I hope I'll be able to write quite a bit in the next couple of weeks.  
> Thank you so so incredibly much for over 12.6k hits, the reaction to this story has been unreal in the last weeks. You guys are absolutely insane, thank you so much for all your hits, kudos, bookmarks and lovely messages!  
> I wish you all a very merry Christmas, have a good time with your loved ones. All the best for you.  
> Lily x

**Listen to the wind blow**  
**watch the sun rise**  
**run in the shadows**  
**damn your love, damn your lies**

  
[ **Fleetwood Mac – The Chain** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PppUJ_JGq2U)

* * *

 

I wrap my hands tighter around the cup, warmth radiating from my tea and seeping into my freezing fingers. The sun is peeking out just to my right, warm peachy and purple shades covering the sky in a wild explosion of colours. The clouds are tinted in a heavy dark purple, thick shadows hanging lowly across the soft, rosy horizon. Faint streaks of blue stretch across it, almost hesitantly, as if the sun isn't quite sure whether it wants to rise today. But even if the sun isn't sure yet, I am. I know it will rise, because it has every day in the last three weeks, even when I didn't expect it to. Even when I thought I'm left in endless darkness, the sun has risen.

Today is no exception, and I watch the first rays of sunlight spread over London to awaken the city from its slumber, a cup of tea in my hand and a blanket wrapped around my shoulders to fight the chilliness of the early morning air.

When I was younger, I had no appreciation for things like sunsets or stars or rainbows. They were a waste of time, time I could spend playing footie or partying. Now, I love to sit on my balcony to watch the sun rise and let my thoughts drift off aimlessly, just like the clouds. And just like the clouds, they can be light and fluffy and pearly white, or dark and brooding and on the verge of breaking into a massive storm.

Maybe it's because Harry taught me to appreciate things like that, he taught me to sit back and relax and appreciate the beauty of the world around me. Sometimes my thoughts want to drift off to him, want to compare the colour of the trees swaying in the wind to his eyes and the cloud's deep shade of pink to his puffy lips, but I always stop those thoughts before they can form. I don't want to compare Harry to a sunset or a tree, because he was never just something pretty to look at.

He was the blood running through my veins.

And, no matter how much I wish it weren't true, he still is.

The last three weeks have passed in a blur. I didn't see Harry and I didn't hear from him at all, and it was as healing as it was devastating. I'm in a slightly better place than I was when I last saw him, I cry and drink less and manage to eat more. But I still can't sleep without his comforting warmth by my side and the sound of his breaths across my neck, and there's a gaping hole inside my chest that I constantly find myself carefully walking around during the day and falling into at night.

 

*****

 

I'm washing the dishes from the light lunch I had when my phone rings. I only have a plate, a cup and a knife to wash but I do it anyway, just to give my hands something to do to keep them from shaking, to keep my mind from wandering off. If I just focus hard enough on scrubbing that plate maybe I can stop my brain from taking me to places I cannot stand to visit.

Sighing, I dry my hands on a kitchen towel and head towards my buzzing phone on the kitchen table. I look around the room as I press the phone to my ear, murmuring a distracted "Yeah?" into the speaker. The room is clean, not a spot of dust anywhere. I don't think the house has ever been this tidy, not even when Harry lived here. But I found that cleaning is as good a distraction as anything else, and I desperately need any distraction I can get.

"Louis? Where are you right now?" Tom's voice comes through the line, a pressing urgency in it that I don't understand. I frown and move to put away the dishes with my free hand.

"At home, why? We've got training in two hours, where else would I be?" A deep sigh comes through the line, followed by a moment of silence. When Tom speaks up again, his voice is strained, as if he's trying to remain calm.

"Okay, listen. I need you to stay in your house, don't go outside, especially not alone. Do you hear me?"

"Wait, what? I – " start but don't get very far.

"Is that clear, Louis? Promise me you'll stay inside, please." A shiver runs down my spine though I can't explain why, a bad feeling bubbling deep inside my stomach. I run my free hand through my hair, pushing the fringe off my forehead, but then I realise that I got that gesture from Harry and drop my hand immediately.

"Yeah, okay, I can do that. But training –"

"No training for you tonight. Stay inside, we'll be at your place soon." We? What the hell is Tom on about?

"Tom –" a sharp beep comes through the line and I gasp, because Tom actually fucking hung up at me. What the hell is wrong with him? Calling me to tell me some cryptic shit and then hanging up on me without giving me a proper explanation? I huff in frustration, but I can't ignore the chills running down my back and I catch myself staring out of the window, peeking out into the darkening street, the light of the setting sun throwing long shadows across my driveway.

Forcing out a chuckle I turn away from the window and turn on the telly, determined to distract myself until Tom arrives and hopefully explains what the fuck is going on. I'm pretty sure he's overreacting or something, or maybe he's drunk? Tom tends to tell weird stories when he's drunk. But a quick glance at my phone tells me it's 5pm and Tom should technically still be at work, so I guess he's not drunk. What the hell is happening then?

I'm so lost in thought, my mind running through all kinds of different scenarios, that I nearly jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings. I peek through the glass in the left side of my door and see Tom standing there, flanked by two tall guys that I recognise as some of the stadium security.

I smile weakly at Tom and open the door to let them in; Tom doesn't return my smile.

"Uh, hi. C'mon in." I hold the door open for the three men and Tom nods at one of them, who immediately heads off to the living room and the kitchen, opening cupboards and peeking behind the curtains. The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies.

"Uh, care to tell me what that is about?" I ask, nodding towards the guy currently heading upstairs to scan the upper floor as well.

"He's doing a security sweep, Louis," Tom mumbles distractedly, his eyes set on his phone as he types out a message to someone and I frown, anger bubbling inside my chest. Because why on earth does he think he can just show up here with two giant human watchdogs, one of whom is currently searching my house, without giving me an explanation?

"Well no shit Sherlock, but why?" I spit, my voice rising in annoyance but Tom doesn't even listen. Instead he walks over to my kitchen window and peeks through the curtains, his eyes flickering down to his phone again like he's waiting for a reply and I snap.

"Tom, what the fuck – " Watchdog number two joins us in the kitchen, standing next to his colleague and nodding at Tom.

"All clear?" He asks, phone clutched tightly in his hand and watchdog nods.

"Found nothing." He found nothing? What the fuck would he find?

"What the fuck are you even looking for?" I pipe in again but just like before, I am ignored.

"Good. That's good." Tom relaxes visibly, his shoulders slumping a bit and the straight line of his lips loosening but he still keeps peering out of the window as if waiting for someone to arrive.

Just seconds later, I hear tires on my driveway that come to a stop with a screeching sound, a door slams, and Tom's face lights up in relief. I hear boots crunch on the gravel and then there's a key in the door, unlocking the front door and – no.

Only one person has a key to my house, and I am absolutely not ready to see that person. Panicking, I spin around to face Tom, my hand shooting out to grip his upper arm.

"Tom, would you please just tell me what the fuck is going on?!" My voice is pitched, panic tinting it and pushing it to a higher octave and Tom's eyes widen slightly as he takes in my reaction, but he doesn't react. Instead he hurries off to the hallway, greeting the person that has arrived.

"Good that you could make it so fast, Harry. Thank you for coming." My heart freezes.

"Of course, Tom. Any news?" He sounds anxious, I register immediately, still so attuned to all the different nuances and sounds of his voice. A voice that could be so gentle at night, whisper the sweetest nothings into my ear, and so rough in the morning, raspy like sand paper.

I look up to see Harry hurrying through the doors and into my living room, and it's like a slap in the face. He looks beautiful, dressed in his classic boots and tight jeans attire that he always chooses for work, a loose black sweater covering his lean, endless torso. He looks like he always did, except for the lines of worry edged into his face, the hard line of his mouth, the frown furrowing his brows.

"Harry," I gasp, involuntarily, the name slipping out without control because I haven't seen him for three weeks and I've been parched for so long and he's an endless ocean of water. His eyes snap up from Tom's face to mine, lingering for a while. Relief washes over his face, softening the harsh anxiety into something more gentle, something that resembles the Harry I know. A part of my heart flutters at the softness in his eyes, reminding me of the warm emerald green they used to shine in whenever he looked at me. It's not quite as it used to be, but it's there and it makes my heartbeat stutter.

But then Harry turns around without saying a word and stalks towards the stairs, heading up towards my bedroom, Tom hot on his heels.

When I arrive in my bedroom the two men are talking animatedly, Harry holding something in his hand, maybe a piece of paper?, while Tom points to it and then to my bedside table. One of the watchdogs is standing in the doorway while I can spot the other standing in the hallway peeking through the front door, and the chills on my back intensify. Because Harry is worried, incredibly worried if the rough tremble in his voice is anything to go with, and Tom has been a nervous wreck ever since he called me earlier. What the fuck is happening?

I glance into my bedroom again to see Harry walk over to my closet, yanking it open. His face falls, his mouth slowly popping open as he spots the stack of jumpers and shirts I keep in there, a stack of _his_ jumpers and shirts. They're clothes he brought over when he stayed with me and I didn't have the heart to give them back yet. They have their space in my closet like they belong there, and the empty space he left in my heart is big enough. I don't need an empty space in my closet to remind me of what I lost every morning. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, unconsciously reaching out to brush his hand over the neatly folded, black jumper on top of the stack. It's one of his favourites and I snatched it from him pretty early on, loving the soft fabric and the way it's way too big for me.

I watch him stand there, in my bedroom and it's almost too much, because seeing Harry here, in my house, walking through my rooms like he did so many times when we were still together – it hurts. It hurts to see him in here, with this bed where we made love and slept together and this closet that still has his clothes in it.

He's walking through the house like he always used to do, floating through the rooms so naturally, like he belongs here, like he lives here. But he doesn't, not anymore, and I have to find a way to accept that.

So I clear my throat loudly, snapping him out of his reverie and he looks up, startled, an almost guilty expression on his face as his eyes snap up to meet mine for a second. There's a storm in his eyes, dimming the emerald green until it's almost black as he tries to control the swirl of emotions on his face. But Harry is nothing if not professional and within seconds its gone, a mask of indifference replacing the war in his eyes before I have any chance to figure out what's going on inside of him.

He turns back to face Tom, looking at that piece of paper again and into my closet as if to compare something, and I huff in frustration, because here I am, in my own house, and everyone refuses to tell me what's going on. I huff, beyond frustrated, and turn on my heels to march back downstairs. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Harry nodding at watchdog number two, who promptly follows me down the stairs. Are they fucking serious?

I'm fuming, marching into the kitchen in the hopes that a cup of tea might help me calm down.

This is ridiculous. I know that something must have happened, but why the hell does nobody tell me what's actually going on?

I have just finished my cup when a door is slammed shut upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. And then Harry comes storming into the kitchen, kicking the door open hard enough to send it flying against the wall, his face twisted in raw anger. He marches right past me.

"Louis, pack your bags. We're leaving." Wait, what? I look up from my cup but he doesn't even stop to look at me. Instead he marches right to the front door and yanks it open, searching the area outside. He's standing tall, his shoulders squared and back tight with tension.

"Harry, what is going on?" I put my cup in the sink and carefully move towards him, not just because Tom and the others are watching our interaction closely but also because to be honest, the blazing look in his eyes as he turns around scares the living daylights out of me. I don't think I've ever seen him this furious. What is wrong?

"Louis, this is not the time to ask questions, pack your fucking bags. Now." Harry barks, his voice wavering with the effort to stay calm, but I don't move. I frown at him, refusing to let him boss me around without giving me any piece of information about what is happening. I won't let anyone push me around like that.

"Where are we going? I can't just leave, I've got training and..."

"Louis!" He shouts, exploding, his anger boiling over. "Bags. Now!" He points to the staircase, his arm shaking in unconcealed fury and my anger begins to match his.

"Don't you dare speak to me like this!" I yell back, my voice not nearly as intimidating as his deep booming one but boy, am I angry. "Tell me what the fuck is going on and then I decide if I'll come with you."

Harry laughs. He fucking laughs right into my face, a humourless, cold laugh that sends shivers down my spine. How dare he?

"Decide? You want to decide?" He gasps for air, still chuckling, the words coming out in a rush of disbelief. "There's nothing for you to decide. Despite everything I'm still your bodyguard, Louis. I make the decisions in situation like these." He's calmer now, his eyes an icy, frozen green as he pins me down with his stare, and all the anger I felt melts away at his words.

Something in the way he refers to himself as my bodyguard hurts, because he's never just been my bodyguard. Right from the beginning there was more between us. Love, I love him. I thought he loved me, too. And even though I'm mad as hell because he thinks that he can command me around like a child it occurs to me that something must've happened, something to make him this upset. He said we have a situation, and both him and Tom are clearly worried, and they even brought more guards with them. Something serious must be going on, and if I'm in danger then so is he. And I have to keep him safe. If we stay, he might get caught up in 'the situation' and he could get hurt. The thought of Harry getting hurt, because of me... It's so abhorrent that my entire body shivers with it. So I have to obey, not for my sake but for his. So I nod, trying to contain the anger still raging inside my chest.

"Okay. But next time you refer to yourself as my bodyguard, remember that that's not all you are to me."

 

*****

 

I sigh, plopping down onto Harry's sofa while he brings my bags to the guest room in his flat. We decided that it's the safest for me to stay at Harry's for a while, and my heart is pounding wildly at the thought. It's not healthy for me, I know that. I was finally getting better, slowly but surely, taking baby steps towards sleeping and eating properly and not crying every day. And now it's all going to hell because here I am, sitting on the sofa we used to cuddle on while watching Kitchen Nightmares or other rubbish TV shows. I don't know if I'll make it through being around Harry after three weeks of not seeing him at all, in this place that is filled with memories and emotions.

I look down at my hands in my lap and realise they're trembling wildly, so I bring them up to my face, covering my eyes and hoping that this is all a bad dream.

It's not. Harry's standing in the doorway, clearing his throat to get my attention and our eyes meet, blue and green melting together.

Hesitantly, almost nervously he steps closer and sinks down onto the sofa next to me, his hands folded across his knees. I'm not sure if the space he keeps between us kills me or keeps me sane.

"I put your bag on the bed and your toiletries are in the bathroom. Oh, and I noticed that you forgot your contacts solution but I... I've still got some in the bathroom, so you can use that." Harry shuffles, long fingers winding through his hair in a nervous gesture as he waits for my reply.  
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying so hard not to think about the fact that Harry, who has never needed glasses in his life, still has my contact solution in his bathroom. Just like I still have his clothes in my closet. I just can't think about what it means, what it could mean, what he could be thinking. It's too much.  
"Yeah, okay. Thanks." I manage to mumble, my voice quiet and we just sit there for a while, staring at the ground and fiddling with our fingers, the silence around us getting thicker but it seems like neither of us know what to say or how to speak.

Eventually, Harry sits up straight and clears his throat. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him glance over at me but I don't return the gesture, instead I keep my eyes on my hands.  
"I, uhm, I'm sorry about earlier. I should've told you what's going on. Do you still want to know?" The question hangs between us for a moment before I huff in disbelief, eyeing him with an incredulous glare.  
"Four guys search through my house and drag me away to a 'safe place' because of 'a situation', of course I fucking want to know what's going on." I snap and Harry nods, seeming a bit taken aback by the venom in my voice but I've just had enough. It seems like lately, the world just can't leave me alone.  
"Fair enough, I guess." He rises from the sofa and disappears to his bedroom, and when he comes back he hands me the piece of paper he and Tom looked at in my house. Taking it from him I realise it's two photographs that were printed, and my breath gets stuck in my throat as I realise what it is.  
One is a picture of my bed, the creamy caramel sheets that I had last week, the ones Harry used to love, covering the mattress, but they're obscured by the words "Fuck You Tomlinson" spelled out in neatly cut out letters across the sheets.  
The second one, the one that makes my heart stop beating inside my chest, is a picture of my closet. Right there, on top of my shirts, is a gun.  
"What..." I start but trail off, completely out of my depth. A million thoughts swirl through my head but I can't grasp any of them, they're too fast, dodging my attempts at taming them and leaving my head a fuzzy mess. I look up from the photos and meet Harry's eyes, his face twisted in burning rage.  
"Someone... Someone was in my house?" I gasp, the thought amongst the more prominent ones in my head.  
"Yeah," Harry agrees, nodding curtly, the single, rasped word containing so much fury that a shiver ripples down my spine. He doesn't elaborate, and my eyes flicker down to where his hands are gripping a decorative pillow so tightly that his knuckles turn white. In another life, I would've reached out to run my hands over his, hoping to relax him. My fingers twitch with the want, the need to comfort him, but I know I can't. He doesn't want me.  
"Do we know who it is? And why?"  I question carefully, my mind funnily numb as I run through all the possibilities, all the faces I've seen in my life, trying to remember them all and wondering if they'd have any reason to harm me. To put a gun in my house.  
My entire body trembles as it hits me that someone out there wants to possibly harm me, has broken into my house, and I clench my eyes shut for a moment, my arms wrapping around my torso to keep myself from falling apart. First the issue with Harry, now this. Too much.  
When Harry doesn't reply I snap my eyes open to look at him only to find him staring at me, regret burning in his eyes. He lifts his hand, slowly inching it towards my thigh and my eyes follow the motion hypnotically, longing for his touch, dreading it.  
He drops his hand.

  
Clearing his throat as if to shake himself out of it Harry sits up straighter and pushes his hair off of his forehand, his right hand still hanging limply by his side and I don't know what to think. It was there, in his eyes, the need to comfort me. Clear as day, but he didn't do it. He stopped himself, couldn't even bear to touch me and my heart clenches painfully at the thought.  
I huff out a wet laugh, my vision blurring slightly as tears begin to pool in my eyes. Snorting, I press my fists to my eyes, keeping the tears from falling.  
"Tom got an anonymous letter a few weeks ago, the first of three." Harry begins slowly, weighing his words, his eyes set on his now folded hands in his lap. He deliberately avoids looking at me.  
"At first we didn't think anything of it, it came with the normal fanmail and was a bit rude, but not necessarily dangerous. Then... He sent two more letters, and the third one was a bit more graphic." Harry's voice breaks, his hand trembling as he runs it over his thigh, fingers picking at a loose thread of his jeans.  
"Graphic?" I prompt weakly, hypnotically watching the motion of Harry's hand.  
"Yeah," he breathes, a shudder making his body tremble. "He... Went into detail about what he'd do to you if he ever met you." I gasp, my heartbeat stilling for a moment.  
"Do....do to me?" Ice cold fear runs through me, and my mind goes empty. _Do to me_. He really does want to harm me. Why? What have I done?  
"I'm going to spare you the details, Lou. But just... Just know that he's not going to succeed, yeah? I won't let him. I mean, we won't let him." I just nod, Harry's words blurring together to a string of inaudible noises that I can't process.  
"We're trying to find out who he is, searching the letters for fingerprints and so on," Harry explains but I barely listen, his words don't make any sense. "And you won't be allowed back into your house. You're going to stay here, with me, just in case....you know." Something about his words send a bolt of protest through me. Just in case? In case something happens? But then.... Harry will be there, to protect me. And that means he might get hurt, because of me. My worst nightmare is starting to come true.  
I sink further into the sofa, hoping to disappear between the cushions. I want to scream, want to yell at Harry to leave me alone, to take care of himself and not me, but I can't. I can't move, can't think, can't breathe.  
I barely notice Harry standing up and leaving the room, only look up when a steaming cup of tea is held in front of me. I take it gratefully, wrapping my freezing hands around the warm mug and taking a sip. It's Yorkshire tea, my favourite.  
I smile thankfully but avoid meeting Harry's eyes. Instead I swirl the tea around in my cup, focusing on the liquid sloshing around in the cup.  
The sofa dips next to me as Harry sinks back down on it, a matching cup of tea cradled in his own hands. He twists the cup between his palms, staring down into the brown liquid just like I do. It's quiet between us, but loud enough in my head.  
"We think he got into your house on Monday, there's evidence of a trespass at your patio door. Probably took the photos while you were at training Monday evening and..." Harry trails off, his grip on his mug tightening. A full body shiver ripples through him and he pushes himself off the sofa to wander across the room, from the door to the windows and back. I look up at him, watching the taught line of his back, the tense expanse of his shoulders as he moves, long legs carrying him across the room in desperate, powerful strides. There's tension radiating off of him, a desperation in the frown on his face, despair in the grim line of his mouth. He's agitated, walking around like a wild animal in a cage and I want nothing more than to hold him, comfort him, tell him that it'll be okay even though I have no clue if that's true. I can't bear to see him so distraught, but there's nothing I can do, not anymore. So I just clutch my tea and watch him, helplessly wishing I could do something to calm him.  
Harry sighs deeply, coming to a halt in front of the sofa and running his free hand across his face in a tired motion. He kneels down in front of me and tilts his head up to face me, his expression serious.  
"I'm sorry, Louis, I know you hate being bossed around." A small, almost nonexistent smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and I suppose that like me, he remembers the last time he bossed me around and how it ended, after we had that spectacular win. I smile bitterly, my eyes watering at the memory of us falling asleep together on this very sofa, wine tinted lips curved into blissful smiles.  
"I should've told you what was going on but I just wanted you gone. He got into your house once, he could've done it again and you stupid stubborn boy just.wouldn't.go." Harry groans in frustration, his hand tugging hard at his curls and I try to keep my breathing even, try not to let his proximity effect me. But his eyes look so green from this perspective.  
"I couldn't let myself be too late, not again. I lost her because of my own stupidity but I won't let myself lose you the same way." I suck in a sharp breath, watching as Harry visibly deflates in front of me. He sinks to the ground and leans his back against his couch table,  his legs folded in front of his chest. His shoulders slump, hands sinking weakly to his sides as he watches me with such open, raw pain in his eyes that it takes my breath away.

  
"Harry..." I start, unsure what to do, what to say but he interrupts me with a sharp shake of his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.  
"It was my fault, you know. That she died? It was my fault." There's no pressure behind his voice, no emotion in it. Just a breathed sentence, as if he was talking about the weather, yet it hits me right inside my chest.  
"I'm sure it wasn't, Harry." I dismiss vaguely, feeling panic rise within me. Why is he opening up now? Now that I can't comfort him, can't talk to him properly, why is he choosing this moment to tell me more about his sister's death?  
Harry looks down at the floor, strong arms hugging his legs to his chest. He curls up entirely, making himself as small as possible, and it breaks my heart to see him rest his chin on his knees like a small boy, staring ahead with haunted eyes.  
"It was. We were at this party, Gemma had just graduated and she convinced me to come to a party with her. It was massive, so many people there. She was so wild, always so full of life, a bit reckless. I promised my Mum I'd take care of her, I was always the more responsible one even though she was older." A weak, pained smile brushes across his face at the memory but it fades quickly, being replaced by a look of pure horror that makes my heart stutter inside my chest.  
"I lost sight of her, and I went looking for her. I looked for over an hour, and when I finally found her...." Harry takes a deep breath and I try to brace myself, try to prepare myself for what comes next but I know I can't. Harry blinks up at me, his eyes so lost, shining with unshed tears and my throat tightens as I wait.  
"She'd been raped, Louis." he chokes out, his voice nothing more than a whisper, a gush of air and I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart shattering for him. "She left the party with this guy who flirted with her and he called his two friends. They had their fun with her in the alley behind the club and then left her to..." He stops, unable to finish. He's not crying, but there's a pain in his eyes that makes me think that sometimes, pain is too strong for simple tears. The thought derails me completely.  
"I was too late, Louis. I couldn't protect her. I failed her." Harry's voice is nothing but a broken rasp, barely audible in the small space between us and I blink down at him, at his strong body folded in on itself, at his wide, pained eyes and trembling lips and there's so much I want to say, so many questions I want to ask but I don't know how, don't know if I'm allowed to.  
So I settle for a simple, "Is that why you became a bodyguard?" even though everything inside of me is screaming at me to just hug him, kiss him, comfort him. But I can't.  
Harry nods, biting his bottom lip into his mouth before answering.  
"I had this overwhelming need to somehow make it up to her by protecting people. I know how it feels to lose someone, I wanted to prevent other people from having to go through the same. So I dropped out of Uni and started training. I... I haven't spoken to my parents since that night, I couldn't bear to look at them and see them blaming me for Gemma's death. I blamed myself enough for the both of them." I swallow harshly, remembering the way Harry talked about his family, with so much love but a hint of bitter regret in his voice. It all makes sense now. My fingers twitch, longing to reach out for him to press my lips to his cheek and run my nose through his hairline behind his ears, where he always smells the most like vanilla shampoo. I stuff them beneath my legs to keep me from doing something stupid.  
"Harry, I'm so sorry..." I say lamely, weakly, knowing that it's so wrong what I'm doing but I just don't know how to react, because we're not together and he left me and we haven't seen each other for weeks. How do I comfort him without breaking the boundaries? What even _are_ the boundaries?  
Harry just nods, keeping his eyes on the floor for a moment longer before standing and picking up his abandoned mug from the floor. I watch his back as he walks over to the windows, cup of tea clutched tightly in his hand, a tiny snuffle breaking the silence between us and my heart.  
I stay seated on the sofa, hands trembling and heart aching, and wonder when things went so terribly wrong.

 

*****

 

I cuddle into the blanket, wrapping it tighter around me to try and fight off the cold shaking my body. A light knock at the door makes me look up to see Harry standing in the doorway, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe, an uncomfortable look on his face. His shirt is crinkled, his hair a mess, the left leg of his jeans hitched higher on his calf than the right one. He's so beautiful.  
"Louis, do you... is everything okay? Do you need anything? Water?" He rasps quietly, scratching the back of his neck with one hand, a clear sign that he's completely out of his depth. If this situation wasn't so fucked up I'd find it endearing and tease him about it. As it is, I just quietly shake my head at him.  
"No, I'm good, thanks." Harry nods, forcing a smile onto his face.  
"Okay, yeah. That's good."  
"Yeah." I agree, looking up at him expectantly but he doesn't say anything else, just looks down at me with an unreadable expression on his face.  
"Goodnight, Harry." I mumble when he doesn't move, burying my head deeper in the pillow.  
"Good night, Lou." Harry turns as if to leave but stops with one hand resting on the doorframe, looking back at me from over his shoulder. He opens his mouth as if to say something, his eyes blinking rapidly, but then he seems to change his mind.  
"Yeah, uhm, goodnight." I know that's not what he wanted to say, but I don't have it in me to call him out on it. Instead I let him shut the door with a soft thud, bathing me in darkness, and let my thoughts consume me.

 

*****

 

_Oh, fuck it,_ I think and throw my legs over the edge of the bed. My socked feet make no sound on the hardwood floor as I move through Harry's flat as silently as I can, trying not to wake him up. It's two am but I can't sleep, not with my mind racing a hundred miles an hour with images of Harry's sister, guns and the green sparkle of Harry's eyes.

I shuffle into the living room and stop dead in my tracks when my eyes land on the hunched figure sitting on the sofa, still dressed in the same jeans and rumpled Rolling Stones shirt. Did he even go to bed? Probably not. I watch as he sits there with his head propped up on his hands, staring thoughtfully into the distance and I want nothing more than to erase the haunted look on his face. My entire body aches with it, with the need to comfort him and touch him and hold him close to me, but that's not something I'm allowed to do anymore. So instead of curling up next to him like I desperately want to I cast one last, lingering look at him before turning around and heading back to the guest room.

 

**And if you don't love me now**  
**You will never love me again.**

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for the new year to start, the last update of 2015.   
> How crazy is this? I can't believe the year went by so fast, but I hope you all  
> had a wonderful 2015.  
> Enjoy this 10k chunk of a chapter, hope you can forgive me for all the pain  
> and heartbreak.  
> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and messages, it means the   
> world to me!  
> Happy 2016 everyone x
> 
> All the love,  
> Lily x

**Either way, I’ll break your heart someday.  
But leaving you is the last thing on my mind.**

 

 

“Good morning,” Harry greets quietly, blinking up at me from where he’s sitting at the kitchen table in a pair of sweats and a plain black t-shirt, his eyes drooping sleepily. His hair is all messed up, tumbling over his shoulders in a mess of chocolate curls and he looks so painfully soft that my heart aches with it.  
“Morning,” I croak, my voice hoarse and raw so I awkwardly cough into my fist to clear my throat, feeling my cheeks heat in response to Harry’s concerned glance. He shakes out of it quickly, though, and reaches for the steaming cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him, gripping the handle and twisting the mug in his hands.  
“You can grab whatever you want for breakfast, you, uh, know your way around, I suppose.” Harry’s voice is soft, almost hesitant as he raises his hand to scratch the back of his neck, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. His words hit me hard, because I indeed know my way around, I’ve been here often enough to know his flat almost as well as my house. Happy times, I think bitterly.  
“Uhm, yeah. Sure do.”  
I open the fridge and take out a carton of milk, smiling slightly at the collection of soy and almond milk and the large stack of veggies in the fridge because it’s just so _Harry_ , and then rise onto my tippy toes to grab the cornflakes from the top shelf. Normally Harry would tease me about being tiny and come up behind me to lift me up, large hands covering my hips completely. Today, he keeps his eyes focused on the newspaper in front of him, a hint of redness flushing his cheeks, his bottom lip bitten into his mouth.  
I smile weakly at the box of cornflakes in my hand, remembering the banter we had about buying them when we went grocery shopping together. Harry playfully insisted he wouldn’t put such unhealthy food in his kitchen and I threatened to simply not come over anymore if I can’t have cornflakes for breakfast, and that was that. Two boxes of cornflakes landed in his kitchen.  
I pour some into a bowl and add milk, surprised that he didn’t throw them away over the course of the last month. When I spot my Yorkshire tea in the same cupboard it’s always been in, the lump in my throat grows impossibly large. He left me, why would he hold onto things that I brought into his life?  


We eat breakfast in silence, the only sound between us the clinking of cutlery against porcelain. The air around us gets thicker with every minute, and as soon as I finished my cornflakes I stand up to put the bowl into the sink. I begin to add hot water, seeing Harry raise his eyebrows in surprise. I never did the washing up without protest before, never did it voluntarily. But people change when life changes, I guess.  
He doesn’t comment on it, instead he just stands up, adds his dishes to the sink and grabs a kitchen towel. We work in silence again, me washing the dishes and handing them over to him to dry. I’m hyperaware of Harry’s presence next to me, so close that our shoulders bump from time to time and each time it happens, I’m struggling not to drop the bowl I’m cleaning. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a few drops of water on his simple grey t-shirt, dampening the fabric so it clings to his stomach, and my mouth goes dry. It’s sad, really, the effect he still has on me, even after all those weeks of me trying to accept the fact that he doesn’t want me. It seems like there’s nothing I can do to change the way my heart starts racing at the mere thought of him, the way his presence makes my entire body tingle.  
  
“Thanks for helping,” Harry mumbles, handing me a towel with a small smile on his face and I reach for it, drying my hands before hanging it over the back of a chair to dry.   
“Of course, I’m the guest. The least I can do is help.” Harry’s smile falls, his gaze falling to the floor, feet shuffling over the tiles, going pigeon-toed.   
“The guest, right. Uhm, I’ll go have a shower, if that’s okay? Or do you need anything else?” Harry heads towards the door, looking back at me from over his shoulder and I shake my head, whispering a soft, “No, I’m okay,” in his direction.  
The guest. It sounds so wrong, thinking of myself as a guest in his flat because before, it almost felt like we lived here, together. Like it was my home as much as his. Now? It all feels like shit. This constant tiptoeing around each other, the giant wall built up between us, keeping us apart – I can’t take it.   


*

 

Sighing, I grab my phone from the kitchen table and sit down on the sofa, my legs pulled up to my chest. Harry is out doing a grocery run, getting stuff for lunch and dinner today, and I decide to take the opportunity to talk to my Mum.   
I don’t tell her about the situation at home, knowing that she’d only worry herself into a tizzy, and I’d rather not deal with that on top of everything else. So we just chat about the girls and footie, everything and nothing until there is a pause in our conversation. It’s a heavy silence, and I know what’s coming next.  
“So, how are you, Lou? Are you getting better, you know, with Harry?” Her voice is careful, hesitant, because the last few times we’ve spoken I had a breakdown as soon as Harry’s name was mentioned. This time, thankfully, I don’t. I look around his living room, clutching a deep purple pillow to my chest, his favourite. He always sleeps on it when he takes a nap, because he says it’s the fluffiest pillow he’s got. Tears burn in the back of my eyes because fuck, I know him so well, know everything about him, and it’s all going to waste? How can that be right?  
“I don’t know, Mum. I –” I start, sighing deeply, staring down at that stupid purple pillow. “I miss him so much. But what can I do?”   
“I don’t understand this, Lou. He cares about you so much, he loves you. It’s so obvious, and he’s staying away from you to protect you, not because he doesn’t love you, Boo.” Mum assures me but I scoff, a snort escaping me. I chuckle breathlessly, my eyes watering. How can she say that? He sees how much I’m suffering without him, how can he still believe it’s for the best?  
“He doesn’t love me, Mum. How could he just leave me if he did?” I question weakly, my voice nothing more than a breath of air, and that’s the main question in all of this, isn’t it?   
“Lou,” my Mum starts, but a second voice speaks up just as she does.  
“I’m gonna start lunch, okay?” My head snaps up at the sound of Harry’s voice, hard and brusque, just in time to see Harry stalk into the kitchen, his boots still on, grocery bag in hand. I swallow harshly, because fuck. He heard. I didn’t even notice him coming in, too caught up in my conversation with my Mum, but he must’ve heard my last words. I watch the broad expanse of his back as he hurries into the kitchen with long, almost frantic steps, my heart clenching painfully in my chest.  
“Louis? Lou, who was that? Was that Harry?” Mum’s voice comes through the line, the speakers creaking at the volume in her voice.  
“Mum…” I start, still staring at the door Harry disappeared through with my mouth hanging wide open, eyes blinking blindly as I try to process what happened. He heard me say that he doesn’t love me, and he just ran away. Does that confirm everything? A pain so complete that it takes my breath away spreads through my chest and I choke on the air left in my lungs, coughing into my fist.  
“Mum? I’ll call you back tonight, okay? I can’t…. I can’t talk right now. But it’s okay. I’m okay,” I promise though I don’t believe the words myself. I end the call with trembling hands and drop my phone onto the sofa next to me, my head fuzzy, as if it’s filled with cotton. I’m okay, I said. What a lie.

*

I sink down into my chair, the smell of freshly prepared food in the air. Harry is standing with his back to me, his shoulders a stiff, rigid line. From where I’m sitting I can see his hands shake every time he lifts the spoon to put food on our plates, and it completely blows my mind.   
I sit there completely stunned, my mouth slowly popping open as I watch him prepare our plates with trembling hands, lifting his left hand every now and then to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, and, no. Is he crying? He can’t be. Why now? A small gasp leaves my lips, barely carrying over the space between us but Harry hears it. He flinches and drops the spoon, putting it down on the counter, but he doesn’t turn around to face me. He just braces himself on the counter, head hanging low, curls tumbling into his face to shield his expression.  
  
“I do, you know.” Harry whispers out of the blue, his voice raw, breaking. He still doesn’t face me.  
“You do what?” I grip the napkin lying on the table in front of me and nervously begin tearing out pieces of the fabric, little red splitters littering the table. I absent-mindedly wonder if that’s what my heart looks like.  
“Love you.” Harry gasps, pressing the words out as if they pain him, burn him from within, a shuddered breath sucked into his lungs afterwards, and my heart stops beating. My hands still their movement, my entire body freezes as I stare at the table in front of me, blinking rapidly. The words hurt, they slice right through me, tearing open every single cut that has started to heal over the last weeks, and I don’t put up a fight. I let them consume me, those words, let them pull me under even though I worked so hard to keep swimming on the surface.   
How can he just say that? After all he put me through, how can he just say he loves me still? I thought those words had a meaning, I thought he meant them when he said them. Seems like he never did, not when he can still say it after leaving me, after breaking me over and over again.   
“Yeah, right.” A breathless, wet chuckle bubbles out of my mouth, disbelief clear in the short sound, and I flinch as Harry slams his hands down on the counter with full force before spinning around, livid eyes meeting mine, green burning like molten emerald.  
“How can you say that? How dare you say that I don’t love you?!” he yells furiously, his face twisted in anger, a vein pounding visibly in his neck. There’s tear streaks on his cheeks, little wet lines running over his soft skin, making it sticky and blotchy, his eyes swollen and lashes clumped. He’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on. I shoot out of my chair with such speed that it topples over and hits the tiles with a loud clatter; neither of us notice.  
“Because you left me, Harry! You fucking left me and broke my heart!” I shout accusingly, my vision blurring behind a curtain of tears that races down my cheeks, my entire body trembling wildly.  
“And I did it because I love you! Because I’d rather be apart from you than ruin your career!” Harry takes two large steps towards me, his brows furrowed in anger, eyes stormy and I step back, cold laughter bubbling out of me.

“I can’t believe you, Harry!” I laugh, the humourless sound raising goosebumps on his arms. “After all you put me through you think you can just march back into my life and tell me you love me? If you’d loved me you wouldn’t have left! You would’ve fought for us, for me, instead of throwing it all away in the blink of an eye!” I shout, my voice rising in volume until my throat hurts and Harry flinches, his body stumbling backwards as if I slapped him. All the anger melts from his face, leaving it open and raw, his eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears.  
“But footie means everything to you,” he whispers softly, linking his hands together in front of his body, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “and I didn’t want to be the one to take it away from you. I… I’m not worth that, Lou.” His quiet admission takes all the wind from my sails. My mouth pops open, jaw practically hitting the floor, and for a moment I have no idea what to say. He’s not worth it? What the hell is he thinking? He’s worth everything.  
“I’m just making your life more complicated, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be in the way of you and your career, you’re so talented and I just couldn’t let myself ruin it for you. I couldn’t, because I love you. And I want the best for you, always.” Harry ducks his head down, curls falling in front of his face but I can still see the silent, thick tears that begin to roll down his cheeks again, his bottom lip wobbling, and I squeeze my eyes shut in unbearable pain. We stay silent for a moment, our shuddered breaths the only sound in the room. With a gasp, I rise my hand to wipe off my tears and shake my head at him, the motion almost exasperated.   
“If you think footie means everything to me, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.” I huff out a disbelieving laugh and run my hand through my hair, shivering under Harry’s intense, hopeful stare. “ _You_ mean everything to me, Harry! You, not footie, not anything else!” I state, the words leaving my mouth without any hesitation. “You.” I whisper again, staring up at him intently, just to make sure that Harry really gets it right this time.   
A choked sob pushes past Harry’s lips until he presses his fist to his mouth, muffling it to a broken whimper. With his eyes squeezed shut he turns his back to me again, his shoulders going slack, body slumping against the kitchen counter.   
“Fuck,” he whispers, over and over again, his voice thick with tears and emotion. I take a slow step towards him but hesitate, unsure what to do, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour.

  
“You’re such a fucking idiot, Harry,” I declare finally, but it’s not angry anymore. Much to my horror, my voice is almost fond, gentle.   
“Yeah,” Harry agrees quietly, wiping his nose before turning back to face me with a small smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “I guess I really am.”   
I smile softly before subconsciously taking another step towards him, the air thickening around us.  
“Look at us, two of the biggest idiots.” My smile widens a bit when Harry chuckles bashfully, pushing his curls that are clinging to his wet face behind his ears. Somehow, it’s calming to see him cry as violently as I did so many times, to see that he suffers, too.   
“Lou- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I put you through this, I really – I thought it’s for the best.” Harry concludes, his eyes wide and round, gazing openly into mine and looking, begging for forgiveness. “I really thought you’d hate me for potentially ruining football for you.”   
“You’re not as smart as I thought, Styles.” I chuckle lightly at his dumbfounded expression, my head almost dizzy with relief, because it’s starting to make sense now. It hurt, it hurt beyond belief and the last weeks were absolute hell for me, but now I know why he did it. He was wrong, of course, so terribly wrong that it’s almost funny, but seeing him suffer just like I did puts things into a new perspective for me. Dare I have hope?  
I stare at him, at this beautiful man with tear stained cheeks that I love more than anything else in the world, and he looks so lost, so confused and torn that I just decide to take a chance and do what I’ve been longing to do for weeks. Taking a deep breath I try to brace myself, and without further hesitation I walk over to him and pull him into my arms.   
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, revelling in the way they’re still the perfect fit, and lean my head against his chest, pulling him down to me.  
Harry sucks in a sharp breath, his body freezing for a few horrible seconds before he sinks into it, his body slumping against mine. Strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me even closer, holding me tight and I feel more whole than I have in almost two months. He sighs in relief, a long breath tickling my neck as he buries his face in the back of my hair. I cling to him so tightly that my arms almost ache with it, but he holds me just as tightly and my knees nearly give in in relieve. Being back in his arms, after all the pain of the last weeks – I finally feel alive. I take a deep breath, breathing in his cologne and shampoo, the smell of his skin slowly calming my nerves as I bury my face in his chest, wet cheeks dampening the fabric of his shirt.  
We stand like that for the longest time, just holding each other, breathing each other in until all that’s left in my mind and heart is Harry Harry Harry.   
  
“I would’ve come out for you, you know?” I mumble into his neck, my lips barely brushing his warm skin and I can feel him shiver beneath me. “I was going to plan it with Tom. I would’ve risked footie for you.” Harry swallows audibly, his throat clicking dryly as he tightens his grip on me even more, erasing all the space between us.  
“Is that…” he starts but trails off, one of his hands drawing light, mindless patterns across my back. He seems to look for courage, so I squeeze my arms around his shoulders and snuggle closer, my nose nuzzling the crook of his neck. He smells so incredibly good, and a part of my heart is fixed just by being back in his arms and having his warmth and smell all around me.   
“Is that all in the past now?” he manages to finish his question, his voice wavering, and I freeze. Is it in the past?  
No, comes the immediate reply form within me. I love him still, I know that with all my heart. And to see him so broken, because of me, it puts things into a new perspective for me. His reaction when I had my breakdown at the stadium and got lost at night, his reaction when he found out I was in danger – he loves me. He made a mistake, yes, a horrible mistake that completely broke me, but he’s the only one who can fix me. I know that now, after weeks of perpetual darkness without him. And if he’s willing to fix me, to take me back, I’ll gladly take everything he has to offer. Because without him, I am nothing.  
“No, it’s not.” I decide, my voice strong and unwavering and Harry hums high in his throat, surprised. He pulls back a little to look down at me, his eyes wide and round, mouth slacked in shock.  
“You’d still do it for me? You - You’d take me back?”   
“In a heartbeat.” Harry’s brows rise on his forehead, his mouth falling open further. He purses his lips as if to say something then slaps his mouth shut again like a fish, his face so dumbstruck that I can’t help but laugh fondly.  
“When I say I love you, Harry, I mean it. I tried to be without you for the last weeks, and you saw how that turned out.” I chuckle bashfully, my gaze falling to the floor, but I don’t miss the way Harry’s eyes darken, his face twisting in regret.   
“I was no better,” Harry admits, his large hands coming to rest on my hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into my flesh.   
“I’ve barely eaten and I haven’t slept a full night ever since that day at the stadium. Been working out like crazy to get my mind off you, but you kept haunting me. You were always there. I even ordered pizza from that delivery thing you like at least three times a week.” I bark out a laugh at that, imaging Harry stuffing his face with pizza, his veggies and smoothies protesting accusingly from the fridge. Harry chuckles lowly, his body shaking with it, and leans down, his lips tickling my ear. “With double cheese and extra pepperoni,” he adds, a blush covering his cheeks and I pull my face away from his neck to look up at him.  
“But you hate pepperoni!” I exclaim, loudly, confusedly. Harry’s eyes soften, his smile going shy, dimples just threatening to pop.  
“Yeah, but you love it.” I giggle disbelievingly and drop my head to his chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath my cheek. I peek up at him and notice him smiling down at me, a dimple now appearing in his left cheek.  
“Look at us, being the biggest idiots in the world.” I mumble, blinking up at him through my fringe and his fingers twitch on my hips. After a moment, he lifts one of his hands to brush my hair off of my face, the light touch of his fingertips leaving my skin burning.   
“The most idiotic idiots.” Harry adds, subconsciously running his tongue across his bottom lip and my eyes follow the motion hypnotically, his lips swollen and puffy from all the crying. I swallow audibly, my throat tightening.   
“Harry –“ I start at the same time as Harry says “I – ” and we both stop, chuckling quietly. He stares down at me, eyes darkening, and my insides tighten.   
“Just kiss me, please,” I beg, my voice paper thin, and Harry doesn’t waste a second. Without hesitation he bends his long body down until we’re the same height, his eyes flickering up to meet mine for a moment and I shudder at the emotion in them. Love, regret, hope, anticipation – it’s all in there, making them burn in the brightest green until they flutter close and he leans in, his lips brushing mine lightly, once, twice, until he finally smashes our mouths together.  
I sigh into the kiss, his lips plump and urgent against mine, and without my control my arms tighten around his neck, fingers tangling into the back of his hair and scratching his scalp lightly, making Harry shudder into the kiss.   
Harry rises to his full height, his arms secure around my waist so he can lift me and, spinning us around, set me down on the kitchen counter.   
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I groan into his mouth, pausing the kiss for a second before Harry’s mouth is on mine again, his tongue meeting mine to deepen the kiss.   
With a hand on both of my knees he pushes my legs apart to slot himself between them, and without hesitation I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him against me.  
“So much,” Harry whispers against my lips, looking down at me with soft, reverent eyes, his hands coming up to cup my face. I watch as his lips curl into a smile before he dives in again, kissing me long and languidly, without a hurry in the world, large hands still framing my face. My own hands come to rest on his hips, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring him to me to make sure that he never, ever leaves again. We rediscover each other, kissing and kissing until all the bitterness and hurt is washed away and all I can taste on my tongue is Harry. My head is fuzzy with it, with Harry’s smell and taste and his strong arms around me and the mere fact that I’ve got him back, that he’s mine, that we’re together again.  
  
A growling sound interrupts the quiet peace in the kitchen, mixing in with the sound of our lips slapping together, and it takes a moment until I realise where the sound comes from. Harry chuckles against my lips, pulling his mouth away from mine with a slipping sound so he can grin down at me, clearly amused by my embarrassment.  
“We should probably eat lunch before it gets cold,” he suggests, one of his hands leaving my face to pat my grumbling stomach, but despite his words he doesn’t move away, instead curls his fingers around my shirt and pulls me even closer.  
“Yeah, we should. Would be a waste of perfectly good food,” I agree but don’t remove my hands from Harry’s hips, none of us making a move to actually get up to eat.   
I blink up at Harry, my entire body shivering when he drags his thumb across my cheek, his touch gentle and light as a feather. Harry looks down at me with wide, awestruck eyes, his lips parting without a sound until he gathers himself and chuckles at his own starry-eyed look.   
“My God, I love you.” Harry’s whispered words float between us for a moment, warming the entire room until they settle right inside my chest, melting away all the frustration and hurt I kept locked up inside. I lean up to press my forehead against his, and, gazing into his eyes, I whisper, “I love you, too,” my voice airy and soft, barely audible. I tilt my head to the right to press a gentle kiss to his temple and pull back just in time to watch the most beautiful smile light up his face.   
“Now about the food…” I tease, prompting Harry to laugh and I smile proudly; and it’s almost like it used to be, before everything fell apart.

 

*

“I can’t believe I was such a fucking idiot,” Harry mumbles, the silent words tickling my neck as he tightens his grip on my waist, plump lips lightly brushing the skin on my neck just below my ear. “So stupid.”   
I chuckle lightly, goosebumps rising on my skin at the memory of the pain I went through in the last weeks. But as I snuggle back into Harry’s embrace, my back to his chest, both of us stretched out on the sofa just the way it’s meant to be, the shivers shaking my body die down.   
“Next time you decide to be all noble and play the white knight, just talk to me first, yeah?” I tease, but there’s a begging in my voice that I just can’t hide. I twist around in Harry’s lap so I can face him, running my fingers over the light stubble on his chin.   
“Promise,” he agrees earnestly, deep voice rumbling through the space between us and I lean closer, brushing my lips over his.   
“Good. Now that that’s settled…” I run my hands from his jawline over his neck to his shoulders, his muscles smooth and firm under my exploring hands, and giggle when Harry chases my lips with his mouth, kissing me again, harder this time.   
“What now?” The question lingers between us for a while, the air around us getting heavier. Eventually, Harry tightens his grip on me and pulls me closer until I can put my head on his shoulder, snuggling into him.   
“Well,” Harry starts, low voice rumbling through his chest as he lifts a hand to thoughtfully stroke his chin. “The contract is on for another two months, so we’ll somehow have to make it through that without getting caught,” Harry smirks down at me, but the memory of the day Tom caught us still haunts me so much that my hands start trembling. Gently, Harry places his big paw on top of mine, his hand warm and strong, calming me. “And then… I guess it’s up to you, you do whatever you’re ready to do.” I blink up at him, surprised by the amount of freedom he’s giving me. I thought he’d want me to come out right away.  
“If there’s one thing I learned in the last weeks, it’s that being without you is the worst. I… I just can’t do it, and I’d do anything to avoid having to go through it again,” Harry explains quietly, his voice raw. He gently runs his hand through my fringe, pushing the loose strands off my forehead before leaning down to press a kiss to my temple, lips lingering for a few seconds. “Even being with you in secret is better than being without you, I’ll take you any way I can get you. It’s just the legal issue with the contract and business relationship that I don’t like.”   
“So two months and then we’re free…” I muse, absentmindedly drawing patterns into his chest, feeling it rise faster beneath my hands.   
“I’ll have to talk to Tom, work out a PR plan, but… I think… I’m fucking terrified, but I think I’d like to come out and be open about our relationship. I don’t want to hide you, it wouldn’t be fair for you or this relationship. Being without you… just like you said, I can’t do it. I can’t be without you, Harry.” I blink up at him, my eyes slowly filling with tears and Harry gasps, shaking his head in rapid motions.  
“No, Lou, don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he whispers frantically and leans down to pepper kisses all over my face, on my cheeks, forehead, my closed eyelids, catching the tears with his lips before they can fall until a giggle leaves my lips, his mouth tickling my skin.   
“Okay, boss, no more tears. But no more leaving, you hear me?” I lift my hand to lightly punch him in the chest, right where his heart is. Smiling, Harry takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers.  
“No, never. Never again.”   
We smile at each other for a while, just enjoying the feeling of our locked hands and entwined bodies, my heart beating rapidly inside my chest.   
“But seriously, I realised that being without you is kind of worse than anything else. Coming out is risky as fuck, but if I never shoot I’ll never know, right?”  
“Right,” Harry agrees hesitantly, though he looks so uncomfortable, eyes cast down at our locked hands.   
“Don’t,” I beg, squeezing his hand until he looks up at me. “Don’t feel bad about this. I love you, and I want this relationship to work as much as you do. Hiding it is not an option for me, not in the long run.” A small smile tugs up the corners of my lips when I see Harry’s eyes go wide at the mention of me being in this in the long run.   
“But the risks…” Harry starts, and I just can’t take it anymore. I lean in and shut him up with a kiss, my lips urgent against his, swallowing his worries and fears.  
“Would you just shut up,” I chide him, our lips still brushing and Harry groans when I gently bite down on his bottom lip, exhaling deeply into my mouth. “I know the risks. But you know what? I’m willing to take them for you. I’m sure Tom and his PR team will come up with a good plan for my big reveal, and even if it all falls to pieces, then at least I’m being honest with myself and I’d get to be with you. That is…” I smirk, pinching his left nipple and Harry yelps, shying away from me as a giggle pushes past his lips, “if you’d be willing to date a fallen football star?”  
Grinning, Harry runs his hands down my back until they come to rest just above my bum, pulling me into him.   
“Any time,” he agrees eagerly, smiling at me with his dimples popping, eyes sparkling wildly and I can’t help but lean up to kiss him, trailing my lips over his jaw down to his neck, hiding giggles in his skin because I’m ecstatic, happiness threatening to pour out of all my pores. After all the stress and heartbreak, we are finally going to figure it out, somehow.   
Just as I’m starting to suck a bruise into his neck, making Harry squirm beneath me, there’s a knock at the door and Harry groans, letting his head fall back against the sofa.   
“That’s probably Tom, he said he’d come over today to see how things are going with you.” Harry wiggles out from underneath me and stands up, stretching his body before walking towards the front door. I watch his long body as he moves, sweatpants riding low on his hips, his shirt bunched up at the sides and my heart starts beating faster, threatening to jump out of my chest because he is _mine_ again, finally.

I smile to myself and sink further into the sofa, taking up the spot Harry abandoned as I listen to him greet Tom. When I hear footsteps coming closer I sit up straighter and smile up at Tom, who greets me with a hand squeezing my shoulder before he plops down on the armchair to my right. Harry appears behind me, leaning his arms on the back of the sofa I’m sitting on.  
“Can I get you anything to drink, Tom?” Harry asks politely, his hands reaching out to play with my hair at the back of my head, the hidden motions sending a wave of heat down my spine.   
“A beer would be great, if you have it,” Tom sighs, running his hands over his face in a tired motion. I notice he’s still dressed in his suit, so I guess he’s come straight from work. Must’ve been a long day.  
“Sure. Anything for you, Lou?” Harry directs his attention to me, smiling softly as he waits for my reply, eyes twinkling with unconcealed happiness and I smile in return, so wide my cheeks start aching.  
“No thanks, I’m all good.” Nodding, Harry leans down to press a soft kiss to my heating cheek before heading to the kitchen, leaving me to deal with Tom’s incredulous stare. I look over at him only to be met with a raised eyebrow and feel my cheeks flush even more, the feeling of Harry’s lips still lingering on my skin.  
“Louis?” He prompts, gesturing to the kitchen where Harry is pottering about.  
“Well, uh,” I start eloquently, nervously twisting my hands in front of my body. “We kind of got back together today? Like, an hour ago?” I watch as Tom’s eyes widen, going round and raw as he looks at me, giggling and smiling, and he shakes his head with a fond grin on his face.  
“Fucking finally, Louis!” Tom shouts, flinging his arms to his sides and nearly knocking the beer out of Harry’s hand. He grimaces and takes the offered beer that Harry barely managed to hold on to with an apologetic glance before grinning at Harry, raising the bottle at him.  
“It’s about time you two got your shit together!” Tom exclaims loudly, setting his beer down on the couch table so he can clap his hands in excitement. “All this moping was really getting on my nerves, you two are the most stubborn and difficult people I’ve ever met, honestly.” Smirking, Tom takes in our flushed faces and shy smiles and snickers quietly before taking another sip of his beer.   
“Well, I was a bit of an idiot, I guess,” Harry admits, rubbing the back of his neck before sinking down on the sofa next to me, our thighs brushing. The small touch sends a heating shiver down my spine and I involuntarily press my leg closer against his.   
“That’s a bit of an understatement, but I agree.” Tom smiles fondly, his eyes lingering on Harry’s hand on my thigh. “Shit, I’m so happy for you.” The almost comical theatrics in his words make us all laugh, and I sink into Harry when he slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer, encouraged by Tom’s supportive words. Chuckling, I press a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek before nuzzling his jawline, unable to suppress my smile with all the joy bubbling inside of me.  
“So I guess I won’t have to look for a hotel for you to hide away in, then,” Tom teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and I gasp in fake horror.  
“Filthy, Tom Parker, absolutely filthy.” Harry snorts, one of his hands slipping under my shirt to caress the skin on my back, the motion hidden from Tom and I push backwards, closer to his hand. He’s got his face buried in my hair, the motion of his even breaths hitting my neck calming me.   
“You know me, Louis. But seriously, you’re going to stay here until the… situation is taken care of, right?” I notice the way Harry stiffens as soon as the ‘situation’ is mentioned, his hand stilling on my back, breath hitching. I lift my hand to rub soothing circles into his thigh, just above his knee, feeling his muscles slowly relax.   
“Yes, definitely.” Harry answers for me and I find myself agreeing with a firm nod. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, with him.   
“Good, that makes things a lot easier for us.” Tom sighs deeply, his face growing serious.   
“Any news?” Harry questions carefully, tightening his hold on me and I snuggle closer, slinging my arm across his chest and tucking my feet under his thigh so my bent legs are curled into his side. I couldn’t be closer to him unless I were to sit on his lap, but I really don’t want to do that to Tom so I have to be content with being cuddled into his side for now. We’ve been apart for too long, and I want nothing more than to be as close to him as I physically can, always.   
“No, sadly not. We found fingerprints on the letters, just have to wait for the results. We searched Louis’ house again but found nothing, no objects put in there or taken away from it, no new signs of trespass. No new letters either.” An ice cold shiver runs through my body at the image of a stranger breaking into my house, wanting to harm me. Feeling my distress Harry presses a reassuring kiss to my temple, his hand steady as it continuously draws mindless patterns into the skin on my back but I can feel how tense his muscles are, his shoulders a straight line, brows furrowed.   
“He’s being quiet, I don’t like it one bit.” Harry muses, gnawing on his bottom lip, lost in thought as he runs through every possible scenario in his mind.  
“You think he’s planning something?” Harry shrugs, his eyes flickering down to me before he refocuses on Tom, and I know that he doesn’t want to talk about this in depth because he doesn’t want to worry me. But I’ve had enough of being left out of matters that concern my own safety, so I lift my head from Harry’s shoulder to give him a stern look.  
“Harry…” I start but Harry interrupts me with a shake of his head, his free hand raised in surrender.   
“I know, Lou, I know. But the truth is, I really don’t know what he’s planning. Maybe he’s also given up, now that we took you away and he knows he’s caught.” But I can hear in Harry’s voice that he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, and Tom’s sceptic glance confirms as much. Ice cold fear grips my heart, because I am in danger. Someone wants to harm me, and if they’re trying to get me, they might get Harry. And the mere thought of him being hurt… No. I tighten my grip on Harry, curling my fingers into his shirt and burying my face in his chest, breathing in his smell to try and calm my racing nerves. I can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to the top of my head, clearly pleased that I worry about him.   
“Let’s just wait for the results of the fingerprints, and we have to focus on keeping Louis out of danger. You’re not coming to training this week, okay? We’ll see about the game on Saturday, but for now you’re not allowed to leave the flat, especially not alone.” Tom regards me with intense eyes, knowing full well that I tend to ignore instructions like that. But this time, I know that putting myself in danger will also put Harry in danger, so chances are that I’m not leaving this flat until it’s absolutely safe.   
“Okay,” I agree quietly, nodding earnestly but a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at Tom’s incredulous glare. He clearly expected a fight. Not on this one, Parker, I think bitterly. Not when Harry is possibly in danger.   
“Right. Well. That’s settled then, I guess.” Tom stutters, taken aback by my cooperation and Harry snickers into my hair, obviously amused. I pinch his nipple in return, making him squeal as he tries to get away from my sneaky hands.   
“You two are too cute together,” Tom states out of the blue, lips smiling around the beer bottle as he takes a sip. Normally, I’d come back with a snarky remark or sassy comment, but today I simply curl into Harry again and hide my smile in his chest, too content to protest.   
“Are you still planning to come out, Lou?”   
“Yes, definitely.” I nod without hesitation and shoot Harry a warning glance before facing Tom again.   
“Good. After the contract is over, then?” Seeing me nod, Tom pulls out his phone and scrolls down for a while, a thoughtful look on his face. “Contract ends in about two months, I’d say we should work out a schedule for you to start hinting that you might not be straight anymore. That way, we could drop the bomb when the contract is over, though I’d suggest waiting another month or two until you make your relationship official, otherwise people might get too suspicious.” Tom suggests, slipping into business mode and he almost looks threatening in his ironed suit and tie, but I can see the happiness in the way his eyes crinkle every time he looks at Harry and I curled up on the sofa, and I know that Tom is one of the best friends I’ve ever had.   
“I’ll talk to our PR team and make them work out a plan, I’ll tell you as soon as I have more info. It’s risky, but I guess you know that, right?” I nod, biting my lip into my mouth but I’m determined.  
“Some people are worth taking risks for.” Harry hums high in his throat, a choked gasp pushing past his lips and I laugh, the sound a little breathless. I trail my hand up and down his chest in a soothing motion, feeling his abs tense under my light touch and my mouth waters at the feeling of his ripped muscles. What I’d give to touch him without the barrier of his shirt, just to see if he still feels the same, if his skin is still as smooth, if he still reacts to my touch the same way…  
Tom’s voice rips me out of my thoughts, and I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear him say that he’ll keep me updated on the PR plan. He finishes his beer and stands up, Harry and I rising as well.   
“Thanks, Tom. Honestly, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without your support.” I walk over to him, to my best friend who is being so amazing and supportive, and I wrap my arms around him to pull him into a tight hug. Tom returns it easily, clapping me on the back.   
“Good luck, chap. So happy for you,” he whispers into my ear and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to fight the tears.  
“Thank you.”   
  
Harry and I bring Tom to the door to say our goodbyes, Harry’s arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, mine slung around his waist.  
“Thank you so much for helping us, Tom.” Harry reaches out to shake Tom’s hand, a thankful smile on his face.   
“No worries at all, Harry. Take care of this little one here, alright?” Tom shoots me a wink, laughing out loud when he’s faced with my middle finger.   
“Little one,” I scoff, shaking my head in mock disgust.  
“I will, definitely.” Harry promises, laughter in his voice as he tightens his hold on me.   
Tom waves his goodbye but turns around one last time to look back at us, standing in the doorway with our arms wrapped around each other.   
“You’ll make it, you two. I know you will.”   
  
“He’s such a good friend,” I sigh as soon as the door falls shut behind Tom, wondering how I got lucky enough to have such supportive people in my life. “Warning you to take care of me, proper best friend he is.” I add to cover up the emotion in my voice, trying to make light of the situation but Harry sees right through me. With his arms looped around my waist he pulls me into him, gazing down at me with earnest eyes.  
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, you know that, right?”  
“But what if something happens to you?” I voice my deepest fear, my hands clutching the collar of his shirt to anchor him to me. Smiling fondly, Harry bops the tip of my nose with his thumb.  
“I’m a big boy, Lou. I can take care of myself.” But what if you can’t?, I add in my thought, but I don’t say it out loud. Instead I just hug Harry, holding him as close to me as possible to try and convey my feelings without words. As I sink into his warm touch, the reality of what we just talked about hits me with full force.  
“Wow,” I whisper, the words muffled by his shirt. “So this is really happening, we’re planning my big announcement. I’m so excited for whatever life has in store for us.” I admit, pushing myself onto my tippy toes to press a kiss to Harry’s lips, my mouth urgent against his.   
“Me too,” he agrees easily before diving back in to kiss me again, and again. “I hate that you might have to sacrifice so much, though.”  
“It’s not a sacrifice. Think about how much I’ll gain.” I smile gleefully and lift my hand to tuck his curls behind his ear, giving me a good view of his gorgeous face and sharp jawline. He looks stuck for a moment, brows rising in confusion and I press a playful kiss to the corner of his mouth.  
“You, you big idiot. I’ll get you.”   
Harry regards me silently for a while, his eyes darkening, the grip of his hands tightening on my waist.   
“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, Lou.” he admits, his voice nothing but a raw whisper, the pain and exhaustion of the last weeks so clear on his face and it ignites a fire inside of me that warms me from the inside out. As I look at him, at this man that I love and that I had to be without for weeks, I want nothing more than to be with him again, in the closest way possible. I want nothing more than to touch him, every inch of him, worship him and feel him react to my touch. So instead of speaking, of saying that I missed him too, of talking about the pain I went through without him, I kiss him. Hard and strong, my tongue immediately parting his lips as I pour everything I have into kissing him, into the touch of my hands on his body.   
Groaning, Harry catches me as I throw myself against him, leaning against the wall for support. I wrap one of my legs around his hips so our crotches align, feeling myself stiffening at the mere thought of being with him again, of showing him how much I love him. I grind down against him hard, making him whimper high in his throat, his hands going limp on my hips.   
“I want you so much, Harry.” I kiss the words into his neck, my teeth nipping aggressively at the soft skin there while my hands explore his body, slipping under his loose shirt and trailing up his torso.   
“Please, Lou.” Harry’s whispered words end in a long moan, my fingers brushing over his nipples, making his entire body shudder against mine.  
“Bed?” I suggest, running my tongue through the stubble on his neck and Harry nods frantically, his body going limp against mine when I cup his face between my hands and kiss him deeply.   
“Yes, please. Bed,” he breathes, leaning into my touch, eyes wide and pupils blown. I smile, planting one last kiss on his lips before taking his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He’s completely pliant, letting me pull him along and guide him to the bedroom where I push him onto the bed and move to straddle him, my legs on either side of his hips.  
I immediately bend down to kiss him again, unable to stop touching him. It’s been too longs since I felt the way his body feels against mine, the way his skin rises in goosebumps every time I touch him, the little sounds that escape his mouth when I pull off his shirt and kiss down his torso, exploring every inch of his skin.   
Harry is completely overwhelmed, lying still as he watches me with wide, awestruck eyes, his face almost dumbstruck as I fit my mouth around one of his nipples, sucking it into my mouth.   
“So gorgeous,” I compliment, softly kissing his cheek while my hands work on his nipples, revelling in the way he bucks his hips up, his entire body shuddering wildly. “I can’t believe I get to touch you again.” I kiss each word into his skin, so overwhelmed by the fact that I am here, with him, loving him again that my heart threatens to burst out of my chest. I slide my hand over his chest and stomach, watching with utter fascination as Harry closes his eyes and arches into my touch, my mind going blank from the mere feeling of his skin beneath my hands and I squeeze my eyes shut, too overcome with emotion.   
“I can’t believe you’re real,” I whisper reverently, gazing into his gorgeous eyes and brushing his sweaty curls off of his forehead. “And mine,” I add, hungry eyes scanning his body, swiping over his naked chest and endless legs in grey sweatpants and I know that I can’t resist him any longer, I have to have him now. It’s been too long.   
I bend down to kiss him again, his mouth opening immediately to let me in, tongues clashing. Reaching between us I palm his crotch, a shuddered breath leaving my lips when I feel how hard he is already.   
“Oh my god, Lou…” Harry’s deep voice breaks the heavy silence between us, the words coming out in a low groan, his lips puffy and deep red. “I can’t believe…fuck…” he trails off when I grind down again, our hips aligning in the most delicious way and I moan into his mouth, my entire body burning with the need to be with him, to be closer, always closer. I pull back a bit so I can take off my shirt, longing to feel his bare skin against mine and Harry weakly curls his hands into my sweats, tugging lightly. I get the hint and clamber off of him to take them off, taking my boxers with them in one go so I’m completely naked.  
Groaning, Harry watches me with wide eyes, letting them flicker over my body as if trying to take everything in at once. He pushes his own sweats and boxers down and I pull them all the way off his legs, leaving him gloriously naked. I sigh at the sight of him, a high whine pushing past my lips and I’d be embarrassed if Harry didn’t look as wrecked as I feel. It’s heady, the way he reacts to my touch with such intensity today, squirming from the lightest brush of my hands.  
“Please, Lou, I…” he begs, reaching out for me with trembling hands, and I take the lube out of his drawer before joining him on the bed, crawling up his body, pausing again and again to nip at his golden, smooth skin, sucking bruises into his thighs and hips until he’s shivering, sweat dampening the light hair beneath his navel.   
When I finally reach his lips he sits up against the headboard and pulls me into his lap, large hands warm on my hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles into my skin.  
“I can’t believe you’re here, with me.” The silent words are breathed against my temple as Harry trails his hands up and down my body, feeling every inch of my skin and I moan, my head dropping weakly to rest against his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re forgiving me.” Soft kisses are pressed to my shoulder, the tell-tale sound of the lube bottle being opened interrupting the sound of our heavy breathing. “I can’t believe you’re mine again.”   
I groan loudly as Harry pushes his first finger into me, carefully, taking his time because he knows just as well as I do that I haven’t been with anyone since he left me. He opens me up slowly, his fingers so gentle and loving that my entire body aches with it, and I try to give as good as I get, kissing all over his body, sucking countless bruises into his chest to mark him as mine, my head fuzzy with his presence.   
When I feel like I’m prepped enough I gently take his face between my hands and kiss him, biting down on his lower lip, kissing him until his body goes slack. When I pull away to look down at him I can’ help but chuckle at how starry-eyed he looks, his green orbs glossy and hazy, blinking up at me. I smile at him and lean in to rub my nose against his, the motion so sweet and intimate that I almost want to cry.  
“I love you.” I repeat the words over and over again, breathing them against his lips and into his mouth as I sink down on him, feeling him slide into me, filling me up. I know this is not going to last long, both of us too overwhelmed and wound up after weeks of being apart, but I begin to move anyway, pushing myself up before sinking down again, and again, building a steady rhythm. I feel Harry’s hands tighten on my hips, fingers digging deliciously into my skin.   
“Fuck, Lou…” Gasping, Harry drops his head to rest against my shoulder and I raise one of my hands to brush through is curls, my rhythm growing frantic.   
“I can’t…nrgh, shit,” I rotate my hips in little circles, feeling Harry press right against my prostate again and again and I know that I am done for soon.   
“Louis, I love you so much. I’m so sorry for…” Harry starts, tears welling up in his eyes again as he cups my face between his large hands, watery eyes blinking up at me and emotion hits me so hard that I gasp with the force of it. Smiling, I slow my movements, focusing on brushing my fingers over his cheeks, feeling his flushed skin smooth against mine.   
“It’s okay, Harry. I love you too.” He stares up at me with wondrous eyes, completely overwhelmed and it’s almost too much, the way he looks at me like I’m the solution to every single question he’s ever had. “I will always love you,” I add, watching as Harry squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain, and seconds later he stills, going completely rigid against me before he snaps, body shivering violently as he comes with a broken sob.   
With tears springing to my eyes I pull him against me, curling my arms around him and holding him against my chest as I chase my own orgasm, the feeling of Harry cuddled into my arms enough to send me over the edge as well as I come hard, spilling onto both our chests with a groan of Harry’s name.   
I let myself fall backwards with Harry still in my arms so he lands on top of me, snuggling closer despite the come drying stickily on both our bodies. He sighs deeply before pressing kisses to my neck, both of us too boneless and content to move so we just lay there, Harry curled up against my chest, my fingers carding through his hair and it’s so perfect, just being with him, feeling him breathe next to me, feeling his heart beat just as rapidly as mine.  
  
“We should get cleaned up,” I suggest eventually, stilling my hands in his hair when Harry pushes himself up to look down at me, his eyes incredibly soft.  
“Hmm,” he agrees, bending his long body down to place a single, soft kiss on my lips.   
We shower quickly, just stand under the steaming water with our arms wrapped around each other, letting it wash away the rest of the pain that has lingered. We brush our teeth in silence and Harry’s hands never leave my body, always linger on my hips or my waist, brush my wet fringe out of my face, rub lotion into my hands with gentle motions and it’s making my head spin in the best way. He even stays close behind me when I take out my contacts, watching me closely in the mirror as if he just can’t get enough of me, kissing my shoulder like he can’t quite believe I’m here. I know that feeling just too well.

When we finally fall into bed, all mint-mouthed and cleaned up, our bodies immediately curl around each other with Harry’s chest to my back, one of his legs hooked between mine, calm breaths brushing over my neck.   
“Love you,” I whisper into the darkness of his quiet bedroom and I feel rather than see his lazy smile against my neck.  
“Hmm,” Harry agrees sleepily, sliding his hands over my chest before I catch them between my own. “Love you too,” he slurs, words getting lost in the blackness and I laugh fondly at the fatigue in his voice.  
I feel just as tired, though, not having slept well ever since he left me, and now that I’m back in his arms his warmth is too soothing, his heartbeat too steady against my back so I close my eyes, surrendering to sleep. I feel so safe, safe and hopeful because Harry is here, with me, and he loves me. We will finally figure out our future together, and I want nothing more than to fall asleep like this every night.  
But as I drift off into sleep there is a dark shadow lurking in the back of my mind, hiding away every time I try to grasp it but it’s there, warning me, dimming the endless hope inside my chest.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that took a while.  
> I'm super sorry for the long wait but this chapter is kind of very important so I took my time with it, I didn't want to cock it up. I hope you like it, please let me know what you think.  
> It's pretty long, almost 12k words so I hope that kind of makes up for the long-ass wait? Forgive me, please.
> 
> Ayway, happy reading everyone, I hope you're all well and your 2016 is going smoothly so far.  
> All the love,  
> Lily x

Gentle sunlight falls through a crack in the curtains, warming my face as I slowly blink my eyes open. I hum contently, cuddling back into the warm arms wrapped around my waist.   
I open my eyes to look up at Harry sleeping soundly next to me, nose scrunching adorably as the sunlight hits his face. It makes me giggle, and I can’t help but lean up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. He sighs deeply, slapping his lips together before scrunching his nose again, this time intentionally. His lips quirk when I press another kiss to his nose, so I know he’s awake.  
“Good morning, bunny.”   
“Bunny?” I smile at his sleepy voice, pleasantly gruff and raspy.   
“You looked like a cute bunny right there. ‘S why you love your greens so much, I suppose.” Groaning, Harry blindly wraps his arms around my hips and pulls me to lay on top of him, his eyes still firmly shut.  
“You’re ridiculous.”   
“And you’re a bunny,” I tease, leaning down to gently bite the tip of his nose this time. He blinks, sleepy green eyes peeking up at me, glowing warmly in the soft morning sun, and my heart stutters inside my chest.   
“Good morning, beautiful.” Slowly, Harry lifts one of his hands to tuck my fringe behind my ear, the soft touch raising goosebumps on my skin.   
Our lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss, and when we break apart I snuggle into his chest, pulling the blankets up and hiding my face in his neck. We lie in silence for a while, Harry’s hands drawing mindless patterns into my back, our legs entwined.   
“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” I don’t know what made my brain decide that now is a good time to talk about this, but apparently there must be a reason for this. God only knows what my brain is up to. Harry stiffens, his hand stilling on my back.  
“What wasn’t my fault?” he questions though we both know exactly what I’m talking about, his voice growing distant.  
“Gemma.” The thing is, we haven’t talked about it. Two weeks have passed since Harry and I got back together, and things are going well so far. Really well, it’s as if the time apart has brought us closer together than we were before. It made us realise how shit life is without the other, and the last two weeks were spent lazing around at Harry’s flat, watching crappy movies while cuddling, cooking and lots of sex. It was perfect, but what Harry said about Gemma kept bothering me, always begging me to say something, to talk about it. I never did, because I know how hard it is for him to open up, but I need him to understand that it wasn’t his fault.  
“Lou…” Harry starts but I interrupt him, sitting up so I’m straddling him and pressing a finger to his lips, my fringe falling into my face as I sharply shake my head.  
“No. We’re talking about this.” I demand, stubbornly staring into his eyes as he pushes himself up on his elbows, a frown on his face.   
“I don’t want to talk about it, though.” There’s a finality in his voice, but I don’t let it stop me. He’s stubborn too, yes, but I’m even more stubborn. Try me, Styles.   
“But I do. I know it bothers you, and I want to know why you think it’s your fault.”   
“Why do you want to talk about it now? It happened so long ago, I don’t…” Harry starts again, getting frustrated.  
“I just want to help you!” I cry, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. Doesn’t he see that? “I can see how much it bothers you and it worries me. I hate seeing you sad!”  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry lets his arms go slack and slumps back onto the mattress, his chest heaving rapidly underneath me. His hands come to rest on my thighs and he focuses on massaging my legs for a moment, face going softer.   
“It was my fault, Lou.” Green eyes meet mine, so open and raw and so, so vulnerable. It takes my breath away. “I lost sight of her. I should’ve been by her side, I shouldn’t have let her get away. Then it all wouldn’t have happened.” Harry’s voice is soft, thoughtful almost, but there’s a bitter sadness to it that makes my heart ache painfully. I run my hand through his hair, gently combing through his curls in the way I know he likes it the most, trying to comfort him.   
“But nobody could’ve known what those guys were planning. It wasn’t your fault that they planned to find a girl that night. It wasn’t your fault that they chose Gemma.” I feel him shiver, his hands stilling on my thighs, warm palms burning against my naked skin.   
“I was so stupid, god. I let her go dance with him, she had been ogling him all night. Found him so good-looking. She was so stoked when he finally came over and offered to buy her a drink.” Harry laughs bitterly, his grips on my legs tightening, fingers digging into my skin. It’s almost uncomfortable, but I know he needs something to hold onto right now and I’ll always be there for him to do just that.   
“You couldn’t have known, Harry. Nobody could’ve guessed what he was planning,” I remind him gently, framing his face with my hands.   
“But I feel like I should have known. I should have known, Louis. I shouldn’t have let her run away with him, I…” Harry stops, face scrunching up in pain and I carefully lean down to kiss his cheeks, one after the other, then his forehead, his closed eyelids, the corners of his mouth. Gentle pecks trailed across his skin to try and kiss away his guilt.  
“There was no way of knowing, Harry. Nobody else could’ve known what he was planning, why do you expect yourself to? It’s a normal club situation. People always pick other people up at clubs, they always dance together, always snog in the back alley. It was nothing unusual, you couldn’t have known.”   
Harry looks up at me with big eyes, begging for me to set him free, begging himself to believe my words but I can see the doubt in them, too. He’s been so convinced for years, it will be so hard to make it clear to him that it wasn’t his fault.  
“I even waited extra long until I went to look for her, in case, you know. They needed some privacy.” A dry sob runs through Harry’s body and I sink down against his chest to wrap my arms around him, holding him close to try and erase the memories in his mind.   
“I keep picturing what they did to her… She had so many bruises when I found her, Lou. So many. And cuts…” He sniffs, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I swallow harshly, _hating_ that he had to see her that way. Why did he have to be the one to find her?  
“Is that why you haven’t talked to your family since then?” I feel him nod against my neck, curls tickling my skin.  
“They wouldn’t have wanted to see me after what I did to Gem, I’m sure. I couldn’t even look at myself, couldn’t stand myself. How could I expect them to look at me every day and be reminded of what I did?”  
“Harry, you didn’t do _anything_. It was _not_ your fault. None of it was your fault. Please, believe me.” Pulling away Harry looks up at me, and I can see in his eyes that he desperately, desperately wants to believe me. But he doesn’t. I open my mouth to speak, to try and convince him further but Harry beats me to it.  
“We have new info on your stalker, by the way.” That effectively shuts me up. What? I know Harry is only saying this to change the subject, and it’s working. I sit up on his chest again, steadying myself with my hands on his shoulders as I blink down at him, fear running through me.  
“What?” Harry nods, pensively chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to contemplate what to tell me. I shoot him a warning look, daring him to keep things secret from me. We’ve not heard any news about this in the last two weeks, well, at least I haven’t. Who knows what has been going on without me knowing.   
“We managed to identify the fingerprints on the letters. His name is Richard Thompson, 56 years old.” I bite my lip, trying not to lash out at Harry for not telling me about this sooner. I know it’s his way of trying to protect me, but damn, I hate being left in the dark.   
“Okay,” I state slowly, working hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. Richard Thompson, the name sends a violent shiver down my spine. He wants to harm me, has broken into my house. Why? “And what does he want from me?”  
Harry stays silent, deliberately avoiding looking me in the eye.   
“Harry?” I prompt, expectantly rising my eyebrows at him. Sighing, he wraps his hands around my hips to hold me in place, or to steady me, I don’t quite know which it is.  
“His daughter. You… during your wild years, you slept with his daughter. Samantha.” It’s his turn to look at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, and my mind begins to race a hundred miles an hour. Samantha, Samantha Thompson… I wreck my brain, thinking back to all the countless nights at the clubs, to all the girls I took home but their faces are blurry, none of them standing out of the haze of alcohol and too loud music. Dread floods through my veins as I helplessly shake my head at Harry, his features darkening.   
“You apparently broke her heart so much that she moved away from her parents, and now her father has decided to get his revenge. He’s crazy, convinced that you took her away from him on purpose.” I swallow harshly, the lump forming in my throat threatening to choke me. I gasp, guilt overwhelming me, regret pumping through my veins so harshly that it makes me dizzy. My body goes slack, shoulders slumping and Harry catches me, wraps me up in his arms and pulls me down onto the bed with him, wrapping himself around me from behind, his body a protecting cocoon around my trembling one.   
“Fuck, Harry…” I gasp, my voice nothing but a broken croak. “I… I ruined someone’s life and I don’t even _remember_ her…” Remorse hits me hard, and self-hatred makes me gasp for air as I remember those nights, the way I was so reckless and restless, moving on from drink to drink, from girl to girl, using them all, picking the prettiest ones and having fun with them. I never forced anyone, but I was an animal. A ruthless animal, and the thought nearly makes me throw up.   
“Oh god, what did I do. What did I _do_ , I was such an asshole. Such an asshole…” I whimper, weakly curling my hands around Harry’s arms that are holding me tight.   
“It was a different time, Lou. You’re not like that anymore,” Harry mumbles, warm lips brushing my neck. “It’s not your fault that she reacted in such an extreme way.” I snort, suddenly realising why the words ‘it’s not your fault’ are so hard to believe. I feel like there is something else he wants to say, something he’s holding back, but I’m too busy thinking about what an idiot I was to notice the uncomfortable frown on his face, the hesitance in his eyes.   
“I can’t believe… I can’t believe I was like that. I hate it, Harry. I hate it, what I did. How I behaved, who I was… I was disgusting.” My voice turns into a frantic whisper, body shivering even underneath the warm blanket.  
“Shh, Lou. It’s okay. I promise.” Harry’s soothing words are whispered into my ear as he hooks his chin over my shoulder, pulling my back to his chest and holding me tight. Both of us are lost in thought, self-hatred bubbling inside our chests. I snuggle back into Harry’s broad chest and hope that one day, our love will be enough to overcome our problems. I hope that one day, he’ll see just how much I love him and will learn to love himself again.   
We stay close like that for the longest time, not saying anything, just breathing.   


*

 

I watch as Harry nervously scans the crowd in front of the stadium, hundreds of fans waiting in front of the entrance. There’s a long row of security guards forming a walkway through the crowd and I follow close after Terry, feeling Harry’s reassuring presence behind me, his arm wrapped securely around my elbow.   
I’m feeling uneasy, the name Richard Thompson flashing on and off in my mind as I look through the crowd. I wonder what he looks like…   
I push past Terry, who stops to give two young girls a signature on their jersey. Today, I didn’t protest when Harry told me I wasn’t allowed to stop for pictures or signatures on our way in.   
It’s another press conference before the game today, and as always plenty of fans have showed up to greet us.   
Harry didn’t want me to go, but Tom said that as one of London’s most popular footballers I had to be there, especially since the masses and the media loves me. He reminded Harry that there have been no news from Richard Thompson in the last two weeks, no new letters, no attempts to contact me.   
Harry still looked uneasy, but Tom is his boss as much as he is mine, so it was settled.   
  
I pick up my pace, the entrance to the stadium getting closer and closer. Harry’s arm is still locked with mine, he’s keeping close while I manoeuvre around crying girls, avoiding the iPhones shoved into my face.  
I’m so close, but it’s not close enough.   
A second hand is wrapped around my arm, but that hand is cold, the skin rough. Calloused fingers dig deeply into my skin, yanking hard. I look up from the ground in shock, and blink into a pair of icy grey eyes.   
A full body shiver runs through me and I freeze, captivated by the utter hatred in those eyes. In this moment, I know that Richard Thompson has found me.  
  
It happens so fast that I barely register what’s going on. I feel Harry’s arm wrap around my waist, trying to pull my body behind his and I am jolted out of my haze, realising that Richard Thompson is here, and he’s going to harm me while Harry is going to try and protect me. I feel panic rising within me, almost numbing my body entirely but I manage to push Harry back, keeping him from slipping between Richard and me. It’s all I can focus on, keeping Harry behind me, away from this man that wants to harm me. I can’t let Harry get hurt. I can’t.

But Harry is much stronger than me, it becomes painfully clear now that all the playful training sessions we had were nothing but just that – a game.  
He grabs me around my waist and spins us around, successfully placing himself between me and Richard Thompson. So many things happen at once, like the seconds that follow actually take hours. I take in the look of pure determination on Harry’s face as he stalks over to Richard, nodding at two of the security guards standing nearby. I see the panic in Richard Thompsons grey eyes, see him realising that his goal of making me pay is slipping out of his reach. I feel my own hands dig into Harry’s shirt, yanking desperately, trying to keep him close to me, to keep him from getting in the crossfire.  
Something silver catches my eyes, bright sunlight reflected from the perfectly polished metallic surface, and with my heart sinking I realise that my worst nightmare is going to come true.

A gunshot is fired.

 

 

*

 

 

Rain is fascinating, I realise.   
It pours and pours in an endless stream of tiny little drops, millions of tiny little drops that are so essential for all life on earth. Tiny little drops of utmost importance strung together to a downpour, dimming the world to a smudgy grey, making people curse and slip while their expensive suits get wet.  
Because rain doesn’t ask for people’s assent before it starts falling. It just falls whenever it wants to, whenever the clouds feel like crumbling, they do. It’s unabashedly and unapologetically brave, free, not asking for people’s okay before it goes ahead and turns the world around, watering the earth and making flowers bloom, filling up rivers and lakes. Rain is one of the reasons for the existence of life.  
Rain is good, purely good, and it saddens me that some people can’t see that. That when the sun breaks through the clouds after a rainstorm, rays dancing on the little droplets that cling to leaves and branches, everything just seems brighter, fresher. More alive.   
Staring ahead at the window in front of me, droplets clinging to the glass, running down and blurring the view of grey London, I realise that some people are like rain. They are so incredibly good and essential, so important for a happy life. They take people’s lives and turn them around, making them bloom like flowers. They are like rainstorms, bringing a change to your life and making it brighter than before. Just like Harry. Harry is rain. Harry is sunshine, too, and he’s love and warmth and happiness and strength. Harry is everything, but mostly, he’s rain.   
Imagine life without rain. It’s impossible.  
Imagine life without Harry… Harry is rain.

  
A violent shudder runs through my body, dry sobs pushing past my lips. I don’t have any tears left, my own little raindrops have died down. I’ve used them all.  
Briefly, I wonder if there will ever be a day when no more rain is left. When all life will fade away because the rain is gone.   
I know for sure that my life will fade away if my rain leaves me.   
Then I focus on the drops on the window, the patterns they draw, the way they sparkle in the dim lights of the city, and my mind goes blank.

The rain reminds me of myself, because it is falling.   
And I am too.

 

*

 

“Mr. Tomlinson?” I look up at the woman standing in front of me, my unfocused, burning eyes unable to fully make out her features but she has a kind, patient smile. She’s wearing all white. “Mr. Horan is here, shall I send him in?”  
Right, Mr. Horan. Niall, my befuddled brain registers. He’s listed as the person to be contacted when Harry has an emergency, so the paramedics called him right after we arrived at the hospital.   
Niall, Harry’s best friend. I’ve never spoken to him, I realise now, not in person. Only over the phone. Isn’t that weird, that I’ve never met Harry’s best friend? That I’ve never met his parents?   
Belatedly I realise that the nurse is still staring at me, pity dimming her smile as she patiently waits for my reply. I nod, not trusting my voice enough to speak.   
“Okay.” The soft word lingers in the silence of the room, only interrupted by the steady beeping of a monitor to my right. My eyes automatically wander to the smooth lines displayed across the screen, watching them rise and fall steadily. It’s calming, reassuring, almost as essential as breathing.

  
  
“Louis?” A quiet voice comes from the doorway, snapping me out of my thoughts. I flinch, body shuddering despite the warm air coming from the heater in the corner of the small hospital room. I nervously drag my eyes to the door, blinking up at a guy not much taller than me, wild blond hair standing away from his head, kind blue eyes meeting mine. A small smile is on his lips, and I watch as his eyes snap from my face to the body lying in the bed next to me, motionless, and Niall’s chest rises with a heavy gulp of air sucked into it. “Can I?” Niall questions gently, still hovering in the doorway and I nod my assent, because he’s Harry’s best friend so he should be here, right? Harry would like that, I’m sure.  
  


Niall crosses the room with two steps and comes to a halt next to the chair I’m sitting on, eyes still glued to Harry’s cold body, bottom lip wobbling.  
He holds out his right hand for me to shake, and I hesitate. My right hand is wrapped around Harry’s, has been for two hours now, and it’s cramped from holding on too tight, the blood circulation running so slow it’s almost painful. But I cannot remove it, cannot let go.   
So I hand Niall my left hand, blinking up at him with eyes that beg for understanding because I don’t even have the energy to send him an apologetic smile. He takes it with understanding flashing across his face, a warm hand engulfing my shaking one.   
“It’s good to finally meet you. Even though the circumstances…” Niall trails off and I nod, grateful that he doesn’t say it out loud. That we’re in a hospital. That Harry is injured. Unconscious.   
“Yeah,” I manage to croak, my voice hoarse and cracking from all the tears I cried today. “Good to meet you too.”  
Niall walks across the room and grabs the spare chair sitting in the corner, dragging it over and placing it next to mine. He sinks down onto it with a heavy sigh, one of his hands coming to rest on Harry’s blanket-covered leg. I feel his gaze on me, watching me closely. Then, a hesitant,   
“How is he?” I manage a weak smile, understanding the anxious fear in Niall’s voice just too well. Even now that I know Harry will be fine I still feel it, a heavy fear settling into my bones, filling up my mind and lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. I know the feeling won’t go away until I’ll finally get to look into those impossibly green eyes again.  
“He’ll be fine.” I assure Niall, tearing my eyes away from Harry’s blank face long enough to send Niall a small smile. “The… the bullet landed in his shoulder, it’ll take some time to heal but… just a little bit lower and it could’ve hit his lungs, or worse.” My entire body shudders at the thought, throat tightening up. If the gunshot had been aimed just a bit lower… I lightly squeeze Harry’s hand, just to have the reassurance that he’s here, unconscious but here. With me. I gently trail my fingers across his wrist, dragging the light touch up his arm, his skin cold but smooth against mine. “He was so lucky.” I add in a whisper, the words settling heavily between Niall and me. I glance over at Niall, seeing him watch me with a small smile on his lips, eyes shining warmly and focused on my hand in Harry’s.   
“Thank fuck,” he breathes, noticing my eyes on him, and his smile widens. “So he’ll recover completely?”  
“Yes, the doctors are positive that it’s going to heal properly. He… he hit his head pretty bad when he fell, got a proper concussion. That’s why he’s unconscious. But they tested his brain and everything looks normal. No swelling.” I explain quietly, my voice paper thin and weary as I tell Niall what the doctors told me. I know how lucky Harry is, how much worse it could’ve been. I know he’ll be fine, but seeing him lying so still, body cold and motionless, it hurts. It hurts like hell to see him so vulnerable, so hurt, and there’s a heavy weight resting on my heart, making every pump of blood painful.   
“Oh Harold, you tosser.” Niall laughs watery, his eyes shining wetly and I almost want to protest, but then I see the relieved smile on his face and the tears threatening to roll over his cheeks and I know he is just as relieved as I am. “Scared the shit out of me when I got the call, you know.” He admits, rubbing his hands across his face in a tired motion.  
“Scared the shit out of me when it happened.” I scoff, a lone tear trickling down my cheek. I hastily wipe it away, hoping that Niall didn’t see it, but the soft smile on his face tells me he did. A hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, and I can definitely tell why Niall is Harry’s best friend. He’s kind and caring, just like Harry.   
“I’m glad you’re here, Louis.” The words are heartfelt, sincere, and for a moment I don’t know what to say, the steady beep of the monitor the only sound between us. They hit home, these few words, because Niall doesn’t even know me, doesn’t know who I am and Harry is lying in this bed, injured because of me but Niall is glad I’m here.   
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” I decide to be just as honest, the words heavy on my tongue as their truth hits me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be except than right next to Harry, no matter the situation. A laugh bubbles out of Niall and I look over at him shaking his head, a disbelieving grin on his face.   
“You’re as hopelessly gone as he is, aren’t you?” Niall’s teasing, I can tell by the grin on his face and the lightness in his voice, but there’s a curious undertone in it too, a sort of wondrous inquiry. It makes my body warm, insides bubbling with unconcealed happiness knowing that it must be obvious enough for Niall to notice how much Harry is ‘gone for me’.  
“Yeah,” I admit breathlessly, nibbling on my bottom lip as a short laugh bubbles out of my mouth. I smile down at Harry, the man I love the most. The man who was willing to save me with his life. _What an idiot_ , I think again and again. His life is the most precious thing to me, how could he ever risk it? But he’s _my_ idiot, and he’ll be okay. That’s all that matters.   
“I can tell.” Niall nods down to where my hand is still wrapped around Harry’s, thumbs brushing gentle circles into the back of his hand. I blush, but Niall claps his hand on my back and shoots me a grateful smile.  
“You’re very good for him, you know?” Good for him? Me? Harry is good for me, I know that for sure. The best for me. He stopped my unhealthy lifestyle, made me find a part of myself that I’ve been missing all along. He takes care of me, makes me feel like I’m walking on clouds, like I could just reach up and pluck the stars from the sky. God knows I’d get every damn star on the sky for him if he asked me to. But how am I good for him?   
“He’s become so serious, you know?” Niall begins to explain, seeing my confused glance. His voice is gentle, almost pensive as his mind travels back to the past. “I knew Harry from school. He was always so bubbly and happy, kind of quirky. Very curly, even more so back then than he is now.” I smile, picturing Harry with tight little ringlets curling on top of his head, his face chubbier, jawline less defined, body softer, and my heart flutters at the image. “He came to London and called me, knowing that I went to Uni here at the time. When I met up with him… I didn’t recognise him, Louis. He was so different. Closed-off. Sad. Full of self-hatred. After all that happened with Gemma…” Niall pauses, shooting me a questioning glance. I nod, signalling him to go on.  
“I know about Gemma. He told me.” My heart stutters painfully inside my chest, remembering the tears in his eyes and the pain in his voice when he slowly revealed what happened, bit after bit, as if it were too painful to recall it all at once. It probably is.   
Niall’s eyes widen momentarily until he nods, hands nervously playing with the duvet on Harry’s bed.   
“I figured he told you, but he… he doesn’t just tell people. It took me months to finally figure out what happened, and I think to this day you and me are the only ones who know.”   
“He’s very private in that perspective,” I agree, smiling down at Harry with sad eyes.   
“He is. I think when it happened, it’s like he lost a part of himself. He couldn’t live with hit, only thought the worst of himself. He thinks his own parents can’t love him after what happened!” Niall’s voice grows louder, his hands thrown up in the air in an exasperated gesture. I chuckle weakly, totally getting what Niall means. I cannot believe how Harry ever thought his parents wouldn’t love him anymore.   
“He lost himself, Louis. And I think he found himself again when he met you. Because you showed him that he is loveable, you know?” Fuck. I gasp, the sound painful in my throat as it tightens impossibly, a fresh set of tears slipping down my cheeks. Loveable. _You showed him he’s loveable_. Of fucking course you are loveable, Harry! The most loveable. God, I love him so much it hurts sometimes, how could he ever think that he isn’t worthy of love? I angrily wipe my tears off my face with my free hand, the other tightening its grip on Harry’s hand.  
“Bloody idiot,” I whisper angrily, Niall bursting into surprised laughter. The sound is so out of place in this sterile, cold room but it’s loud and contagious and I can’t help but join him.   
“Yeah, he is. Got a thick head, your boy.” Niall agrees easily, still grinning. _My boy_. My heart plummets into my stomach, fluttering rapidly. My boy. Mine.  
“He’s become so serious and sad, it was so good to see him blush and giggle and fall off the sofa because he was so eager to reply to your messages.” But, no. What Niall is describing is me, when Harry and I first started getting close, fingers shaking with the urgency to reply as fast as possible. Did Harry feel the same, right from the start? Did he feel the same urgency to get closer, always closer?  
“He fell off the sofa?” I question disbelievingly, eyebrows shooting up as I wait for Niall’s reply. He smiles knowingly, winking.  
“Proper smashed himself to the floor, mate.” A loud giggle pushes past my lips, an image forming in my mind of Harry’s long limbs getting all tangled up in his rush to get the phone, sending him straight to the floor with a loud bang.   
“Is it sad that I was just as bad? I… I always debated how long I had to wait until I could reply, I didn’t want to come off as too eager but I also didn’t want him to think I didn’t care.” I blush, remembering the early days when I’d just met Harry and totally didn’t understand why I felt such a pull towards him, why his smile kept haunting my mind. Niall coos, slapping my knee in excited fondness.  
“Nah, ‘s not sad. It’s love, innit?” And, yeah.   
“Yeah. It is.” I agree, feeling my smile go soft as I watch the man I love in front of me, lifting my free hand to brush my fingers across his pale cheek. It’s strange not to have him react to my touch, but he’ll be okay. He has to be.   
Clearing his throat, Niall regards me with earnest, wetly shimmering eyes. He nods once, determined, and smiles openly.  
“Mate, I know I’ve only just met you, but I’m really glad he found you.”   
“Yeah. I’m really glad he found me, too.”

 

We sit in silence for a while, Niall probably lost in memories of when Harry first arrived in London, my own mind racing a million miles an hour.  
The thought that Harry doesn’t think of himself as worthy of love keeps nagging my mind, pounding heavily through my veins. He’s wrong, he’s so wrong. I have to prove it to him, have to show him just how loveable he is. I can’t go on knowing that he thinks his own parents can’t love him. An idea springs to my mind, a rapid flash and my free hand shoots out to grab Niall’s arm, making him flinch at my sudden movement.  
“We have to call his Mum, Niall.”   
Niall gapes at me, mouth hanging wide open, eyes going round.   
“What?”  
“We should call her. Tell her that Harry is in hospital, don’t you think a mother would want to know that? And maybe… I don’t know, give her the chance to decide whether she wants to come see him?” I nervously scratch my neck, a habit that I picked up from Harry and judging from Niall’s quick quirk of lips, he knows.   
“But… can we just call his Mum without his consent? He avoided her for years, Louis, and there’s a reason for it.” Niall demurs, but he doesn’t sound dismissive, just cautious. Pensive.   
“And that reason is that he is convinced she doesn’t love him anymore. Please don’t tell me that you believe that, too?” I shoot him a challenging glance, daring him to tell me that Harry is right but Niall immediately shakes his head.   
“No, I never believed that. I know Anne and the close relationship they had, there’s close to nothing Harry could do to make her stop loving him.” A lump starts forming in my throat, making breathing almost impossible as I think about how he just left, left his Mum who he loved so much, I can tell by the way he talks about her. How painful it must’ve been for him to just leave that behind. I want nothing more than to fix this.  
“I can’t stand the thought of him missing her and blaming himself for something he had no control over, I just can’t. I need him to forgive himself, to let go. And I think meeting his Mum and realising that she never blamed him, never stopped loving him will help him so much.”   
Niall rubs his hand over his chin, blinking at me with wide, pensive eyes, his internal struggle so clear in them. I nervously wait for his reply, because Niall knows Harry almost better than I do, knows how he would react.   
Eventually, Niall lowers his hand and exhales a long, deep breath, shoulders slumping.  
“I think he still has her number in his phone.”  
It’s a silent assent, and we look at each other before I stand up slowly, untangling my fingers from Harry so I can walk across the room to the small desk where his belongings are stacked, my heart beating wildly in my throat. I reach for his phone with shaky hands, the small object burning against my skin as I carry it over to the bed and sit back down on my chair, staring down at the black screen for a moment before pushing myself to turn it on.  
I unlock Harry’s phone, the code 2412 sending a shiver down my spine, his homescreen nearly bringing new tears to my eyes. It’s a picture of us that he took a few days ago, when we watched Kitchen Nightmares cuddled up on Harry’s sofa and I fell asleep on his chest. Harry’s smiling widely, dimples popping and eyes sparkling. Looking at him now, deathly pale and unmoving in a hospital bed, I can barely believe how deep we’ve fallen once again. Will this ever end?  
“Fuck,” I whisper, pressing my fist to my trembling lips as tears start burning in my eyes.   
“Do it, Louis,” comes Niall’s voice from behind me, cautious but encouraging, a warm hand squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. “Harry may seem all grown-up and brave but he needs a kick in the right direction sometimes. I think this will be good for him.”  
I nod, my hand trembling as I scroll through his contacts until I find one simply labelled ‘Mum’. Seeing it, her number saved in his phone even after years of no contact at all completely breaks my heart. It breaks for a desperate, grieving 20 year old Harry who hated himself so much that he didn’t believe his own family could love him any longer.  
Can I really do this? Can I call his mother without his consent, a person he has avoided for years? Is this the right thing to do or am I going completely insane? Can I call her?  
Yes, yes you can, a voice whispers inside my head, and I know it’s true. I saw the pain in Harry’s eyes when he spoke about his family, the regret in the bitter twist to his mouth when he admitted that he hasn’t spoken to his parents since Gemma died. He’s so convinced that what happened to Gemma is his fault, that his parents couldn’t possibly love him after what happened.  
But I know that it’s not his fault, it was never his fault but he can’t see that. I cannot imagine that his parents would’ve blamed him, that they would’ve sent him away after already losing one of their children.   
He should’ve stayed with them so they could’ve gone through the hard times together, but instead he let his fear get the best of him and ran. _Oh Harry, you bloody idiot_ , I think once again, a small, sad smile stretching my lips. _For someone as smart as you, you sure do a lot of dumb shit.  
_ “Okay,” I decide, my hand holding the phone becoming just a little bit steadier. “I’m gonna do it, Niall. I’ll call his mother.” The words feel strange on my tongue, like they don’t quite belong there, but I say them without hesitation. I have to try this for him.  
“Good. I’ll give you some space.” With one last encouraging nod Niall slips out of the room, and I wait until the door has fallen shut before I face Harry again. I put the phone down on the small table next to Harry’s bed and lean in, lifting a trembling hand to brush a stray curl off Harry’s forehead. His hair is soft, glimmering like molten chocolate beneath fluorescent lights. It makes his skin look pale, almost translucent in the ruthlessly bright light. I push myself up a little until I can press my lips to his cheek, feeling his soft, powdery skin under my lips. I let them linger for a moment, breathing in his smell that still lingers in the sterilised air to calm my racing heart.   
“Harry? I’m gonna call your Mum. Okay?” I know he can’t hear me, but it still feels important to ask. To tell him what I’m about to do. It feels monumental, the weight resting on my shoulders getting impossibly heavy. I press one last, gentle kiss to his cheek and pull away, looking down at him with so much love pumping through my veins that I’m feeling dizzy with it.  
“For you,” I whisper, and pick up the phone.  
I press the call button, my eyes fiercely shut. I blindly reach for Harry’s motionless hand, slipping my fingers through his.   
“I hope I won’t regret this.”  
It rings several times, again and again, and just as I’m beginning to wonder if maybe Harry has the wrong number, someone picks up the phone. My heart stops beating.  
“Anne Cox?” It’s a friendly voice, warm and open, smooth just like Harry’s but not nearly as deep. It immediately comforts me.   
“Mrs. Cox?” I start, trying not to get irritated by the last name. Seems like she re-married, okay. That’s something to think about another time. “I…This is going to sound very strange to you, but I’m calling…” How do I do this how do I do this, oh god how do I do this? “…because of Harry.” The words leave my mouth with a gush of air and the line goes silent except for a sharp gasp, erratic breathing the only sound for a while. Then, a hesitant,  
“Harry? My boy?” Fuck. Those three damn words, those three hopeful, fearful words send immediate tears down my cheeks and I squeeze Harry’s hand tighter, wishing he were conscious to experience this with me.  
“Yes,” I croak, my throat clicking dryly. “Your son, Harry Styles. I… I’m his boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson.” I wait nervously, unsure how to go on. Is it okay that I revealed that Harry has a boyfriend? I know that his Mum knows he’s gay, but what if he didn’t want her to know about me? What am I even doing?  
“His boyfriend…Is he okay? Did something happen to him, why are you calling? Why is he not calling?” The voice coming through the line sounds frantic, panic seeping through and I rush to explain what happened, stumbling over the words in my hurry.  
“Mrs. Styles…Cox, sorry. I’m calling because Harry got in an accident and I thought you should know.”  
“An accident?” Anne gasps, her voice skyrocketing. Before I can explain, she goes on, the words coming out in a breathless whisper. “Did I lose them both? Oh god, please tell me I didn’t lose them both.” And there we go, I was right. A mother’s love never dies. My heart clenches painfully, hope surging through me.  
“You didn’t, Mrs. Cox, he will be fine. He’s unconscious at the moment but the doctors are very positive that he will recover fully.” I absentmindedly squeeze Harry’s hand, willing him to wake up soon. _Come back to me. Please._  
“Oh thank god…Thank god.” A loud sobs cuts through the silence on the line, broken whimpers following and I press my face into the mattress on Harry’s bed, trying desperately to keep my own tears at bay. “Thank god he will be okay. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to lose them both.” Anne admits wearily, then seems to catch up on what else I said. “But… if you say he’s unconscious… He doesn’t know that you called me, does he? He still didn’t reach out to me.” Her voice is resigned, the pain masked by years of suppressing it but I catch it, catch it in the way she breathes in too slowly, as if willing herself to calm down.   
“No, he didn’t.” I admit, hating myself for having to say it. I run my fingers over Harry’s knuckles, needing to feel his smooth skin against mine as a reassurance. “But…His best friend and I, we made this decision for him. You are his mother, and we found it important to inform you about this.” I explain as calmly as I can, willing my hands not to shake as much as they do in fear of dropping the phone.  
“Do you… do you think I could visit?” There it is again, that hopeful tone in her voice, telling me that she never quite gave up on him, never stopped praying to get him back. I laugh weakly, the sound nothing more than a gush of air, but it feels a lot like relief.  
“That was kind of the plan,” I admit, shrugging nervously. “I mean, only if you want to, of course. I can’t… I can’t promise anything, but I know he misses you.” Anne is silent for the longest time, not even the sound of breathing coming through the line and for a moment I wonder if I said too much, fucked it all up for Harry. Then a thin voice speaks up again, the tears almost audible in it.  
“Where is he? What hospital?” Anne gasps out a sad laugh, followed by a wrecked sob. “God, what country is he in?” And it’s painful, so painful to see that she doesn’t know anything about her own son, that he successfully cut himself off from his parents.   
“He’s in London, Mrs. Cox.”   
“London? He always wanted to go to London. It has been his dream since he was little.” Anne snuffles, a gentle, almost proud tone in the words. “London. He really did make it to London….”   
“He did.” I confirm, and I can’t help but think that yes, she really has every reason to be proud. He’s an incredible person. The most incredible. But I figure it’s better to tell her that in person, so with my blood rushing loudly through my head I manage to ask,  
“Does that mean you’re coming, then?”   
“Yes, Louis. I’m coming to London. I’m coming to see my boy.”

 

*  
  
My own phone rings, the opening chords of Sweater Weather blasting through the room and I flinch, shooting up from my chair to silence it before it can disturb Harry. Which is stupid, I realise belatedly, because Harry is unconscious, not asleep. But old habits die hard, and protecting Harry even from something as simple as a too loud phone will always be a habit of mine.   
I accept the call and bring it to my ear, taking a deep breath when I see Anne’s name flash across the screen. We agreed that she’d call me when she’s in London and as I look at the clock, I realise that almost six hours have passed since our first call, the sun setting in front of the window, painting soft purple and orange streaks across the sky.   
“Hello?” I greet, feeling anxious all over again.   
“Louis?” Anne greets, sounding even more anxious than me, and who can blame her? “I’m… I’m close to the hospital. Could you maybe meet me in the cafeteria? Or somewhere else, just…” she hesitates, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve not seen him for so many years, I don’t know if I can bear seeing him right away. I know nothing about him, so… I thought you could give me a little heads up before I go and see him?”  
“Of course, Anne. Of course. I’ll go down to the cafeteria and wait for you.”   
“Thank you,” she sighs, relief evident in the sound and I smile softly, letting my eyes travel over Harry’s motionless face. “How will I recognise you?”   
“Uhm, I’ve got brown hair, wearing a large black sweater. I… I think I’ll probably recognise you, we’ll find each other.” I wonder if she looks a lot like Harry. Do they have the same smile? The same gorgeous eyes? Curls?   
“Thank you so much, Louis. See you in a few minutes.”   
  
*  


I hate leaving Harry alone, but the nurse has assured me that with the severity of his concussion it’ll still take a while until he wakes up, so I think I’ll manage to leave his side for a while. It makes my skin crawl, having to leave him alone in his vulnerable state and I have half the mind to call Niall back to watch over him, but I’m doing this for Harry, for his happiness, so I think it’ll be okay.   
Niall sent me a string of every single happy emoji he could find along with some ‘HELL YEAH’s, and then called me with tears in his voice, wishing me good look and asking how Anne reacted. It’s so good to see how much he cares about Harry, and I already decided Niall is one of the best people I’ve ever met. I’m glad Harry has him.  
The cafeteria is almost empty, the dinner rush almost over and my stomach growls loudly at the sight of sandwiches and muffins. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast but even now my stomach is too upset, my entire body too uneasy with what’s going to happen soon that just the thought of food makes me sick. So I simply grab a cup of tea and sit down at a plastic table in the far corner of the cafeteria where nobody else sits, facing the door. I wait nervously, checking my phone every few seconds, almost waiting for a message from Anne saying she’s not coming because she’s too scared or because she doesn’t want to…   
But then a woman steps through the open doors, dressed in a black coat, long brown curls flying wildly as she frantically glances around, scanning the people in the room, and all my fear falls away. I immediately know it’s her.  
I swallow harshly, shooting up from my chair and nearly spilling my tea in the process. As I begin to walk towards her, I realise that yes, she does look like Harry. A lot, actually.   
She notices me when I’m halfway across the cafeteria, her entire body stilling as she stares at me, freezing into complete numbness. I watch as her shoulders go slack but I don’t stop, don’t hesitate despite my heart beating so wildly in my chest that I fear it might break my ribs. This is for my boy, for Harry, and I will not let this go to waste. I’ll be damned if I ruin this for him.  
“Louis?” Hopeful eyes blink up at me, eyes that are an almost exact replica of the eyes I love the most except for the colour. There’s no such green as Harry’s eyes.   
“Hello, Mrs. Cox,” I breathe, sending her a nervous smile and then she throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me as she starts sobbing.   
I gasp, completely taken aback but still manage to wrap my arms around her in return, carefully rubbing her back as violent sobs shake her.   
“Thank you, Louis,” she chokes out after a while, pulling away to give me an embarrassed little smile, running the back of her hand over her eyes to catch the tears. “Thank you for giving me the chance to see my baby again.” And, _oh Harry,_ is all I can think _, how could you ever doubt that she loves you?  
_ “I’m doing this for him, because I think he needs you in his life but he’s too afraid to be rejected after all this time. Shall we sit down?” Anne nods, still shaking slightly, and I offer to get her a coffee and a muffin while she sits down at the table I abandoned. I decide to get a muffin for myself, feeling more hopeful now that Anne is really here. Maybe I can manage to eat something. Maybe this will actually work out.

  
Anne is quiet as I brief her on the accident and explain what the doctors said about Harry’s recovery, spinning the mug between her hands, eyes set on the table in front of her.  
“So he will really be okay?” she queries for what must be the fourth time and I nod indulgently, a happy little smile curving my lips up when I say that,  
“Yes, he will be okay. Thank god he will.” I don’t know what I’d do if he wouldn’t be okay. I don’t think I could live with it.   
“Good. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to lose them both,” Anne whispers, repeating her words from our first phone call.   
“I know,” I smile gently as she jumps in her seat, eyes widening in shock. I don’t think she meant to say those words out loud.   
“He told you about Gemma, then…” she muses, her eyes darkening, crinkling at the corners as sadness dims her features. I nod carefully, unsure how she feels about this. A stranger knows that her daughter is dead, how is she going to react?  
“I guess you also know why he left, then.”   
“I do.” I agree sadly, my voice as haunted as hers. “What did he tell you? When he left?”  
“He… left us a letter. I just, I woke up in the morning and there was this letter on the kitchen table.” Anne’s eyes grow distant, her mind far away, reliving memories from years ago. “He just left, didn’t tell us where he went, changed his phone number, cut all his ties with his friends. We had no idea where he went, what he was going to do… He was so young, Louis, and so broken.” A single tear winds its way down Anne’s cheek and I feel tears well up in my own eyes at the thought of how terrified and desperate Harry must have been, how alone he must have felt.   
“You never heard anything from him after that?” Anne shakes her head, the same curls that Harry has, just a tad deeper, flying wildly.   
“No, never. We had no idea where he went… if he was even…” she doesn’t go on but I know exactly what she means. I can’t imagine how it must feel, not knowing whether your son was still alive. “I was so mad, Louis.” She whispers quietly, shame colouring her cheeks as she refuses to meet my eyes. “So mad that he just left. I’d already lost my daughter, and then he left too. But then days passed and turned into weeks and all I felt was worry. Worry and fear and sadness, because to me it felt like I lost both of my children.” Finally, she lifts her head, watery eyes meeting mine as she breathes, “I just wanted him back, Louis. I wanted my baby back, every single day. I… I missed him so much.” And it’s obvious, it is. She’s falling apart in front of me, tears streaming down her face, her entire body shaking violently so I carefully reach out and place my hand on top of hers, listening intently to what she has to say, soaking up every word. She grips my hand tightly, choking out a broken “We never blamed him, Louis. We never did.” And there we go, the crux of it all. The reason Harry left. The reason it all fell to pieces. Relief shoots through me, so strong that my head spins with the intensity of it, and I gently squeeze Anne’s hands before answering.  
“I know you didn’t. I told him countless times that you wouldn’t blame him, but he was so convinced that you’d hate him after what happened. He blamed himself. Still does.” I add sadly, the quiet confession pulling another sob from Anne.  
“He has always looked for the fault in himself first.” Anne smiles fondly, sadness keeping the corners of her mouth from curling fully but it’s there, a tiny, hopeful smile that looks so much like Harry’s that it makes me smile in return.   
“Yeah, he’s noble like that. Always wants to do the right thing.” My smile widens a little as I think back to when Tom said those words to me after Harry broke up with me, and I can’t help but think that yeah, Harry really has a talent for trying to do what he thinks is the best and ruining things in the process, bless him.  
“And completely cocks it up,” Anne deadpans, and I can’t help myself. A chuckle pushes past my lips, because this situation is just so messed up and her words are so true. With wide, shocked eyes Anne joins me, as if she can’t quite believe what she just said. So we sit in the cafeteria of a hospital, with Harry lying unconsciously in his room, and we chuckle together, cry together, and somehow I get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this could be good.  
  
  
“Do you think he’d want me in his life?” It’s back, the nervousness in Anne’s words, anxiety clear on her face as she waits for my reply, breath hitching in her throat. “Because now that I got him back I’m never letting him slip through my fingers again.” And don’t I know that feeling too well?  
“From the way he talked about what happened I think he missed you all this time, but he was too convinced that you’d hate him. He hated himself too much to even consider that you don’t.” Anne seems to consider my words for a moment, pensively staring into her mug and I check my watch, itching to get back to Harry in case he wakes up or something else happens.   
“You want to get back to him, don’t you?” There’s a knowing glint to her eyes, a softness to the small smile that takes over her features and I feel my cheeks heat.  
“I do.” There’s no denying it, I always want to be by his side. Taking a deep breath, Anne downs the last sip of her coffee and nods determinedly.   
“Shall we get going, then?”  
“Okay. Let’s do this.” We walk towards the doors and I pretend not to notice how her steps falter, legs shaking. I stay close to her in case she stumbles, my hand hovering behind her back in the hopes of supporting her, urging her on.   
“Oh, and Anne? What about Harry’s father?”   
Gulping, she drops her gaze to the floor, steps slowing down further. “We… I haven’t spoken to Des in three years. We lost both our children, our relationship didn’t survive it.” I nod, understanding and sympathy rushing through me. Everything fell apart for her, for Harry’s family. The thought makes my entire body ache.  
“But I will call him. He needs to know that Harry is okay. He needs to know that our baby is okay.”

 

I lead Anne to Harry’s room, the sound of our shoes slapping against the white tiles echoing through empty hallways, white walls blurring together to an endless labyrinth of plain hallways. Until we finally reach room 314. I stop in front of the door, shaking hands hovering over the door handle. I don’t push it down.   
“Are you ready for this?” I turn around to face Anne, who is tucking her long curls behind her ear with trembling fingers. Frantic eyes meet mine, so wide and raw that I can’t help but pull her into an embrace. It’s strange, I only met this woman about an hour ago but I already feel so close to her, feel the need to comfort her. Maybe it’s because she looks so much like Harry. Maybe it’s because I know how much Harry loved – and still loves – her. Maybe it’s because this situation is so surreal that normal rules just don’t apply.   
“I don’t know,” she breathes, hiding her face in the fabric of my – Harry’s – jumper. “I just don’t know… What if he doesn’t want me, Louis?”   
“I think he does. I think he has always wanted you in his life but he was too scared that you’d reject him.”   
“My stupid boy,” Anne sniffles, nodding against my chest once before standing up straight and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Let me see my stupid boy, please.”  


 

I watch the scene in front of me with an odd feeling of detachment in my chest, like I’m an outsider intruding. It’s surreal, seeing Anne step into the room on shaky legs, taking tiny steps closer and closer to the bed. Gasping, she sinks down onto the chair I abandoned earlier, endless tears streaming down her cheeks and dropping onto the sterile, pearly white floor. A wrecked sob pushes past her lips as she grabs one of Harry’s hands between hers, clinging to it like it’s her lifeline.  
Harry remains unmoving, unaware of his mother studying every line of his face for the first time in six years. It’s heartbreaking, the way she gazes at him with wide, wet eyes like he is the earth’s biggest miracle. I can relate, because I look at him like that too.   
“He’s got a stubble….” Anne whispers frantically, voice filled with wondrous disbelief, carefully lifting one of her hands to run it across his cheek, the touch gentle against Harry’s pale skin. “Oh god, he could never even get fuzz going. Always had such a baby face…” It makes me shiver, realising that she never got to see her son grow up, that she wasn’t there when he had to start shaving his face regularly, when he lost his baby fat and grew a few extra inches.   
I slowly step closer and sink down onto the edge of the bed next to her, one of my hands immediately coming to rest on Harry’s shin. I need to be touching him in some way, always, just to know that he’s here.   
“It grows rather quickly now…” I explain sheepishly, grinning fondly at the sound Anne makes, a mixture between a sob and a giggle. It’s oddly comforting. She turns to look at me, a small mischievous smile on her face and I blush, shrugging helplessly. Giggling quietly she turns back to face Harry, letting her eyes roam over his blanket covered body before they come to settle on his face again.  
“My god, he’s so handsome.” Awe fills her voice and I find myself nodding along, still getting the same feeling of disbelief every time I look at Harry because even after months of seeing him I’m still not used to just how beautiful he is. “My boy is so handsome, oh my god.”  
“He’s beautiful,” I agree quietly, looking down at where my hand draws mindless patterns into his thigh. Anne smiles warmly.  
“You really love him, don’t you?” There’s a knowing edge to her voice that makes me look up, cheeks heating. I nod, my bottom lip bitten into my mouth.  
“Yes, I do. With all my heart. It took me a while to get there, we had a lot of up and downs caused by both of us. And just as we thought we finally made it, this happens…” There always seems to be something that keeps us apart, but somehow we always find our way back to each other, always stronger than before. I gently squeeze Harry’s knee, silently begging him to come back to me. _Soon, please._  
“How is he? Please, tell me about him. I don’t know him at all, Louis. Tell me about my boy.”  
I know this is going to be a long talk, so I offer to go down to the cafeteria to get Anne another coffee and a tea for myself, giving her some time to be alone with Harry. I cannot imagine how overwhelming this must be for her. She accepts the steaming mug with a grateful smile and then looks down at Harry, brows furrowing.  
“Does he drink coffee?” I swallow around the lump in my throat, my heart breaking because Harry’s Mum knows so little about him, doesn’t even know how he drinks his coffee. But the hopeful look in her eyes tells me that she desperately wants to learn and I vow that I’ll try my best to help her get to know her son.   
“He does. No sugar, just a splash of milk. Also has a thing for Vanilla Lattes.”   
I smile wistfully, remembering how I changed my jogging route just so I’d run past the Starbucks a few roads away from my house, always ending my run with getting a tea for myself and a steaming cup of Vanilla Latte for Harry. I’m quite the expert at running without spilling coffee by now…  
And so we sit there for an hour or two, both of us clinging to Harry’s unmoving body, sending awed glances his way because he is everything to us. Everything.

  
“If you want to know more about when Harry first arrived in London I suggest you talk to Niall, Harry’s best friend. He was there from the start and he’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow morning.” I write down Niall’s number and Anne promises to call him so they can meet up tomorrow. She yawns loudly, an embarrassed blush covering her cheeks as she quickly slaps her mouth shut but I just laugh quietly.  
“You should get some sleep. It’s late, and it must’ve been a very emotional day for you.”   
“Just this morning I got up like always, had my coffee, made breakfast for Robin and I. It was a normal day, just like every other day, and I never… I never expected for this to happen.” Anne blinks up at me with guilty eyes, shame colouring her cheeks. “I’d given up, Louis. It has been six years. I still missed him, every single day. But I’d given up any hope that I’d get to see him again.” She tugs her quivering lip into her mouth and wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me tight against her. “Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity to see my baby again. I can never thank you enough, Louis.”  
I gently wrap my arms around her in return, holding her small frame to me.   
“I really hope I made the right decision by calling you.” Anne sighs against my chest, a deep, heavy sigh.   
“Me too.”  
We stay like that for a while before Anne pulls back, lifting one of her hands to my cheek.   
“I barely know you and I know my own son even less, but I’m so happy he’s got you. I can tell how much you love him, and that’s the most important thing for me. To know that he’s loved.”   
“Always,” I croak, my throat suddenly too dry, too tight with emotion. _He is loved_ , I think, emotion hitting me so hard that my breath hitches. _My god is he loved._  
“Will you stay with him tonight?” I nod immediately, because there is no chance in hell that I’m leaving him.  
“Of course.”   
Anne just smiles like she never expected anything else.

 

*  


I cuddle deeper into the chair, legs folded against my chest as I try to somehow get comfortable. A nurse comes in and hands me a thin woollen blanket that I gratefully accept, Harry’s jumper not enough to keep me warm in the quiet room.   
I sigh, head resting on my knees as I watch Harry’s chest rise and fall with a steady rhythm, eyes burning with exhaustion but mind racing too much for me to fall asleep.  
Today has been one hell of a day. First the accident… I shudder, thinking back to the way Harry fell to the ground, deep red blood soaking his white shirt, pouring endlessly. Panic breaking out around us so I barely registered security catching Richard Thompson, leading him away with an iron grip. All I could focus on was Harry, the way his body slowly grew cold in my arms, eyes blinking slowly until they fell shut completely. I have never, ever been as scared as I was in that moment. I thought I was going to lose him, for good this time.   
“Don’t ever do that to me again, you arse.” I laugh weakly, fresh tears on my cheeks and god, how do I even have any tears left?  
My entire body aches with the need to get closer, always closer, so I give in and scoot the chair closer to the bed. I trail my thumb over Harry’s stubbly cheek, trying to rub some warmth into his skin.   
“I love you. Please come back to me soon.” The words are whispered into the cold darkness of the silent hospital room, the light from the monitor casting an eerie, green glow over the bed. I bend down to press a kiss to Harry’s unresponding lips, my hand wrapping tightly around his as I press another kiss to his forehead before resting my upper body on his bed, using his arm as my pillow.  
I close my eyes, knowing that I need the rest but I can’t sleep, not when my eyes snap open every few seconds to check if Harry is still breathing, if the monitor is still beeping steadily. I can’t help my racing thoughts, I know the doctors said he will be fine but the fear sits too deep, the image of him bleeding and passing out in my arms too real. I cuddle closer to him, desperately longing to feel his arms around me, holding me close, his lips against my ear as he promises that everything will be okay… But Harry remains unmoving, eerily still, and my heart can’t take it.  
I gasp, realisation hitting me like a lightning strike. I was so close to losing Harry so many times, with the contract, the break-up, now this… almost losing Harry once again only made me realise how important he really is, how impossible it is for me to be without him.   
Coming face to face with the possibility of losing him forever made one thing clear to me, I want him by my side. Always. And I know that if Harry comes back to me again this time, I have to make sure that he will be mine in every way. Always.  
  
I hastily sit up, frantic hands searching for my phone on the small table next to the bed. I dial Anne’s number with trembling fingers and she picks up after the first ring, I guess she won’t get any more sleep than I will tonight.  
“Louis? Did something happen? Did he wake up? Did he…” I immediately interrupt her rambling, assuring her that Harry is fine.  
“No no, Anne. All is well, no change at all. I just…. I have a question.” She’s quiet for a moment, letting it sink in before nervously speaking up again.  
“A question?”  
“An important question. Of utmost importance, really. Incredibly important, but also kind of unexpected. But I have to ask you.” I run my free hand over my face before dropping it down to wrap it around Harry’s. My heart is beating rapidly inside my chest, blood pumping thickly through my veins and for a terrible moment I feel like I’m going to pass out, cold sweat covering my forehead. “I feel… I know you’re not back in contact yet, but I still feel like I need to get your approval….So I was wondering…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cut you off right there, hah. But if you’re perceptive and I guess you all are, you already know what Louis is asking.  
> But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the next update to be sure.  
> Only one chapter and an epilogue left, holy hell. I don't want this to end, aaah.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so awfully sorry for the incredible long wait. It's been so long, I am the worst. But I had 7 exams at Uni (3 of which I still have to write, ugh) and I can honestly say I have never studied as much in my life as I have in the last four weeks, not even when I graduated from school. It was absolutely crazy and I was so incredibly stressed, so I hope you can forgive me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think. xx

When Harry finally wakes up, there's no dramatic reaction from the outside world like I expected. The sun doesn't magically break through the ever-persistent clouds hanging heavily over London, there's no earthquake and no volcano exploding and the world doesn't start spinning faster, but my own world finally falls back into place. It hasn't even been that long, I know some people are in a coma for years, but just the short time I had to look at Harry laying unmoving and not responding in front of me has been enough to scar me for the rest of my life. I just want him back, my entire body aching to be with him again, to hear his laugh and feel his strong arms around me.

 

Anne had left the room earlier, as soon as Harry started to stir. We mutually agreed that it might be best if Harry doesn't see her right away, no need to shock him right after he wakes up. So she headed down to the cafeteria with one last glance at her son and I promised to text her as soon as there's any news.  
Which leaves me alone with Harry and the fluorescent light surrounding us, his skin still ghostly pale, eyelids almost transparent as they start to twitch. I sit still, unable to move as the lump in my throat grows and grows because God, Harry will wake up soon. He'll be back with me soon, I'll have him back. Relief floods through my veins but at the same time my heart pounds madly inside my chest, because what if the doctors were wrong? He got a pretty nasty blow to his head, what if his brain was damaged after all? What if he's not fine?  
A single tear escapes and runs down my cheek, but I hastily wipe it away. No matter what's going to happen, I have to be strong for him because Harry will definitely be confused and lost when he wakes up. He'll need me by his side.  
And so I wait, my hands that cling tightly to one of Harry's cold ones sweating nervously, and try in vein to calm my racing thoughts.   
Harry's limp hand suddenly tightens around mine and my breath hitches, new tears threatening to fill my eyes and my lungs stop functioning altogether when Harry blinks,  
green orbs slowly blinking open, hazy and sleepy, clouded with confusion. He frowns, staring up at the plain white ceiling, and I swallow audibly to get rid of the lump in my throat.  
"Hey," I croak softly, gently squeezing Harry's hand and he carefully turns his head, wincing slightly when he moves his injured shoulder. Tired eyes meet mine and I hold my breath as the seconds pass, syrupy slow and Harry stares, stares without blinking, stares and stares and stares and I can't take it, I think desperately as fear surges through me. He doesn't recognise me, he doesn't -  
"Lou," Harry rasps, voice rough from days without use but it's not a question. It's a statement, my name, and the way he says it as if it's the thing he's most sure of in the whole world makes me sag forwards in relief.  
"Oh thank god," I breathe weakly, running my hand over my face before I manage to catch myself. "How are you feeling?" I whisper, not trusting my voice to speak louder as I gently lift one of my hands to brush his hair out of his face. Harry smiles softly, the corners of his mouth barely lifting but it's there and it makes my heart jump inside my chest.  
"Confused. And my shoulder hurts. Head, too." I can't help but chuckle quietly at his pouty face, he looks as though his shoulder and head are betraying him and God, it's cute.  
"You've been out for a couple days. Do you remember what happened?" While I wait for his answer I lean across the bed to press the button that will alert a nurse, and seconds later one of them pops her head through the door. When she sees Harry is awake she smiles, sending us a thumbs up and saying that she'll get Harry's doctor to come in soon.  
"A couple of days, really?" Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and I nod, biting down onto my bottom lip to fight the emotion welling up inside of me. Seeing the strained look on my face Harry soothingly runs his thumb across my knuckles, giving me a reassuring smile. "But yes, I remember. He wanted to attack you..." Harry coughs, the sound rattled and dry and I belatedly realise that his throat must hurt like hell after days of not being in use of getting any liquid. I quickly shoot out of my chair to get him some water, steadying him with an arm around his waist as he sits up. I know he doesn't need my help but I keep my arm wrapped around him, feeling the warmth slowly return to his body and it feels so good to be close to him, to have him awake next to me that I can't bear to put any space between us.  
"Thank you," he whispers when he's emptied the entire bottle and hands it back, and I notice his hands are shaking. I gently take them into mine and squeeze, holding them still as he smiles down at me, eyes so gentle and soft and alive that it nearly overwhelms me. I can't do anything but smile back at him, a stupid grin on my face because _I've got him back_. I've finally got him back.

 

Our moment is interrupted when Harry's doctor walks in, a relatively young guy with sandy blond hair and a crinkly grin that promptly spreads across his face as soon as his gaze lands on us.  
"Mr Styles!" he explains excitedly, like Harry and him have been best friends for years. "It's good to have you back." I reluctantly let go of Harry's hands when Dr. Langham holds his out for Harry to shake, and give Harry's thigh a squeeze before standing up and stepping back to give the doctor space.  
"It's good to be back," Harry says as loud as his strained voice allows, his eyes flickering over to where I'm standing in the corner of the room and Dr. Langham chuckles, looking back and forth between us.  
"I bet," he teases and I snort, joining his hollering laughter at Harry's appalled face. "Louis here has missed you quite a bit, I guess." The doctor sends me a wink and I feel my face heat, a heavy blush settling across my cheeks. Harry's face softens as he looks at me, his eyes sending me a silent apology and I shrug, telling him not to worry about it.  
"That's... that's good to hear," Harry stutters, smiling shyly, and Dr. Langham decides not to torture him any further.  
"Right, how are you feeling then?" He asks Harry and takes out a clipboard and pen, writing down some notes as Harry talks. I listen intently, my eyes focused on the way Harry's lips move, slowly and precisely as they shape each word and my insides begin to tingle because I've got him back.  
They whisk him away for some tests and scans so I take the time to call Niall and Tom and tell them about the good news. Niall immediately asks if he can come over, but I know Harry is probably exhausted and he still has Anne to meet, so Niall and I agree that he'll come over tomorrow. Tom's over the moon, too, and tells me to send Harry his best wishes. I call Anne too, and as I listen to her sobbing down the line in relief I feel my own tears falling down my cheeks as the reality of what just happened sinks in. Harry's back. He's back and he's feeling okay. Sniffing, I assure Anne that I'll let her know when Harry is ready to see her, and settle into the chair that I've come to know well over the last days. Sighing, I run my hand through my hair, exhaustion hitting me like a tidal wave. I haven't slept well at all and the emotional turmoil of the recent events has taken its toll on me, but I refuse to fall asleep. Now is not the time to sleep, not when Harry's just woken up. I want to spend every single minute with him, just to hear him talk and see him smile, just to know that this isn't a dream.

 

It takes almost two hours until Harry is shoved back into the room in a wheelchair and I nearly jump out of my chair, sending him a questioning glance that he returns with a reassuring one that makes my heart calm down.

"Alright, Mr. Styles," Dr. Langham exclaims, sending Harry one last smile. "All is well, you're one lucky man. The wound is healing and if your head allows it, we might let you go home tomorrow." Home, I think wistfully. Yes, please. That sounds so good.  
"Thank you so much, Doctor." Harry rasps, his voice still rough but I squeeze my eyes shut anyway, just hearing him talk again is so wonderful that I fear I might cry again. Waving with his clipboard Dr. Langham leaves the room, rushing through the door with his overall waving behind him, undoubtedly on his way to the next patient.  
The door falls shut with a quiet thud and all the hair on my body rises in anticipation.

Hesitantly, nervously, I turn my head to face Harry, who is watching me expectantly with one eyebrow cocked up, a small smirk on his face as he takes in my tear-stained cheeks and his crinkled jumper that I'm still wearing. Seeing him smile again, just looking at him and have him look right back – it breaks something inside of me and I'm out of my chair in a second.

I throw myself onto his bed and cuddle into him, careful not to hurt his injured shoulder. A whimpered, "fuck," pushes past my lips when Harry wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer and I bury my face in his chest, silent tears dampening the fabric of his hospital gown. I feel kisses pressed to my hair, Harry inhaling deeply with his face hidden in my neck.

"So you missed me?" he whispers quietly and I nod sharply, hands curling tightly into his gown to pull him even closer to me. Harry chuckles quietly, the sound strained with emotion and I huff, pulling away to look up at his face. He still looks tired, his skin pale and his eyes exhausted but there's a pleased sparkle in them, he's clearly happy about my reaction, which is just...

"How could you do this to me, you oversized idiot?" I yell in frustration, my hand flying out to lightly punch his chest and Harry laughs, the sound so boyish and relieved that all my anger immediately melts away.

"Stop laughing, you numpty!" I hiss, trying to still sound angry but unable to stop a small giggle from escaping. It feels a lot like relief, sitting here wrapped up in Harry, our laughter ringing through the room.

"I'm sorry," Harry amends finally and pulls me in again, wincing slightly when he moves his shoulder but he doesn't let me pull away when I try to give him more space, he just holds me tighter. "Love you." The words are breathed against my skin and they raise goosebumps all over my body, my heart stuttering painfully inside my chest.

"God, I love you too. So much." I sob, hiccups slurring the words and Harry smiles softly, one of his hands coming up to stroke my fringe away from my face.

"Good." His voice hits my lips in a gush of air and I blink up at him, so close to be that I can feel his breath on my face. I lift both of my hands to cradle his face between them, gently running my thumbs over his jawline, feeling his stubble against my fingers and god, I can't get enough of his warm skin, of feeling his pulse beneath my hands, of knowing he's alive and well and with me again.

"I can't stop looking at you," I admit, blinking up into green orbs, my heart filled to the brim with relief when Harry looks back at me, eyes sparkling, lips curling up in a warm smile. Seeing him so motionless, cold and unmoving for so long... "I was so scared you wouldn't wake up. That you wouldn't come back to me." I shudder violently, just the thought sending ice cold shivers down my spine. Harry sighs and wraps his arms back around me to pull me against him and I go willingly, cuddling into him, feeling his warmth that has finally returned. I rest my head against his chest, feeling his heart beat strong and steadily in his ribcage and I close my eyes, focusing on the sound. "The doctor said you'd be fine but... I didn't know, and... seeing you so cold and unmoving..." I shiver again, trembling in Harry's arms and this time Harry cups my face, tilting my head up so he can look down at me with wide, honest eyes. Slowly, he leans down to brush a kiss to my cheek, kissing away the tears that dampen my skin. He keeps pressing tender, soft kisses to my face, absorbing all my tears with his lips before he finally pulls back to look at me again with so much love and honesty in his eyes that it nearly sends new tears down my cheeks.

"I'm always coming back to you." His words are heavy, hanging in the air between us before they settle into my heart, finding their way into my veins and pounding through my body in time with my heartbeat. It's a promise, a sincere promise, and I cannot take it anymore.

I surge upwards, lifting myself up until my lips meet his in a bruising kiss, both of us sighing into each other's mouth. I wrap my hands around his neck to pull him down to my height, thumbs brushing over his pulse point to feel his heartbeat skyrocket under my fingers.

"Hmm," Harry hums contently, strong arms wrapping around my waist to pull me closer against him, always closer. I tilt my head to the right, allowing our lips to press harder, Harry's tongue teasing into my mouth. I gasp against his lips, my head swimming so much with Harry so close to me, alive and warm and kissing me, loving me that I barely register the knock at the door. I do, however, register the nurse standing in the doorway with a smirk on her face, hands on her hips as she watches us with an amused expression and I freeze, Harry pulling away from me with a smacking sound and a blush on his cheeks, his expression sheepish.

"Uh, yeah?" he asks, voice rough and I can't help but laugh at Harry trying to appear casual and not like the nurse just caught us with his tongue down my throat. His lips are puffy and red, cheeks flushed and hair a mess, and the nurse just chuckles before shrugging and pointing to the monitor next to Harry's bed.

"Your heart activity went up rapidly so I came to check up on you, but I guess I didn't have to worry." Harry's mouth pops open, eyes widening in surprise and I giggle, hiding my laughter behind my hand pressed to my mouth.

"Ah, I take the full blame for that," I grin, throwing her an apologetic glance. "Thought it might be good to get his juices flowing after such a long time of being passed out, you know?" I tease, patting Harry's cheek when he just fishmouths, blinking between me and the nurse in the doorway. She nods in mock seriousness, stating, "I respect your way of thinking, Mr. Tomlinson," before throwing a wink at Harry and leaving us with the instruction to not have 'too much fun'. 

I cackle loudly, pressing one last kiss to Harry's jawline before cuddling back into his arms, smirking at his still dumb face.

"Did I... did I really just get caught making out with my boyfriend in hospital, three hours after waking up from being comatose?" He asks, baffled, blinking down at me with an amused sparkle in his eyes.

"I think you did, Mr. Styles. You naughty boy." I tease and Harry grins, a full-on, boyish smile that takes my breath away. To think that I might have never seen that smile again... Another flash of fear surges through me and I sober up, tucking my neck into his neck to mumble against his skin.

"But seriously, don't ever do that to me again. Seeing you half dead and bleeding on the concrete is not something I want to see again!" I can feel Harry nod against my head, a yawn hidden in my hair with a kitten-ish sound that makes me smile.

"'m sorry, Lou. But I couldn't let him hurt you." Harry mumbles sheepishly, tightening his hold on me when suddenly he gasps, his arms going slack. I jump up, afraid that I hurt him but he's beaming at me, eyes wide and round and absolutely ecstatic. I frown in confusion, sending him a questioning glance and he grabs my hands in his, squeezing them in excitement.

"I did it, Lou. I didn't fail this time," he whispers, awestruck, his hands tightening around mine to pull me closer again. "I saved you."

And I look at him, seeing the relief in his eyes and the way his shoulders slump as if a weight has been lifted off of them, and I know that what I did was right. Calling his Mum was right, because he's still so convinced that what happened with Gemma was his fault. This right here is the perfect proof that he still blames himself, and I hate it. I hate knowing that this still bothers him so much, and I hope that talking to Anne will help him let go of his self-doubt.

I swallow, my throat clicking dryly as I slowly shake my head at him, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his wrists. "You never failed, Harry. Never"

"I did." Harry insists and he is so convinced, so certain that I know I can't let this go on any longer. I take a deep breath and lift both of Harry's hands to my mouth, gently kissing his knuckles before looking at him with nervous eyes. He frowns, clearly seeing the nerves in my eyes and hearing them in my wavering voice when I speak up.

"Harry..." I start, anxiousness flooding my stomach to the point where I actually feel sick. "I, uhm, I have a surprise for you." I start, unsure what to say. How do you tell someone that their Mum is here to see them after six years of having no contact at all?

Harry's frown deepens, confusion clouding his eyes but he nods hesitantly, breathing out a careful, "okay...?" and I close my eyes for a moment, focusing on the fact that this is right, that it will help Harry. Hopefully.

Harry squeezes my hands reassuringly and I open my eyes again, staring into his beautiful green ones, looking back at me with so much worry in them that the words tumble from my mouth.

"Harry, someone is here to see you." Harry hums high in his throat, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Is it Niall? Did you two finally meet?" I smile fleetingly, thinking back to Niall's loud, warm Irish ways.

"Yes we did, he was here twice while you were out and he'll be back tomorrow, but it's not Niall. I... I need you to be open-minded, okay?" Harry nods again, this time without hesitation.

"Okay. I trust you." And those words nearly break me. He trusts me so much, it's clear in the way the confusion in his eyes is outshine by love. I can only hope that I didn't misuse that trust with what I did.

"Okay," I exhale a long breath and reach for my phone, typing out a quick text to Anne with trembling fingers. I put my phone away and scoot closer to Harry, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him into me so he's resting against my chest, my body protectively cocooned around him. "Okay," I say again, firmer this time. I don't know who I'm trying to convince, him or myself.

 

 

I don't know how long we wait, a few minutes probably but it feels like hours to me. I keep pressing light kisses to Harry's temples, trying to kiss away the lingering headache I know he has. Harry keeps looking up at me questioningly, but I don't dare speak up so I just shake my head at him, attempting soothing smiles. Judging from the way his worry only intensifies, I'm doing a terrible job.

"Lou..." he starts just as the door is opened, fluorescent light from the hallway spilling into the room, illuminating the person standing in the doorway.

Harry freezes, his entire body going rigid against mine as he stares at Anne, completely unmoving in my arms.

"Mum..." he breathes, the word nearly inaudible. Harry flinches violently as he seems to realise that Anne is indeed here, his body surging backwards into mine as if to hide, every single muscle trembling and I tighten my grip on him, soothingly rubbing my hands up and down his arms. Anne doesn't move and I send her a comforting glance over Harry's head, the tears visible on her cheeks as she stares down at her son, who she hasn't talked to in six years. Who left her with just a single note and no way to contact him.

"Harry, she's here to see you. She missed you so much," I whisper into Harry's ear, soothingly pressing my lips to his cheek and Harry stills again, blinking up at me in confusion. The fear in his eyes is so, so obvious that my heart sinks. "She never blamed you, Harry. Never." I assure him. Harry's stare remains blank but he slowly stops shaking, his eyes set on me but I feel him tense in my arms as Anne slowly steps closer, sinking down into the chair next to the bed.

Harry doesn't look at her, just buries his face in my neck and sucks in a shuddering breath. I rub my hands down his back in the way I know he likes, ignoring the way he's clinging to me almost too tightly because I know that he needs someone to hold onto right now. I nod at Anne, encouraging her to go on, to do something and she sniffs, endless tears streaming down her face as she breathes out,

"Harry.... Haz, oh my god." Her voice is paper thin, barely carrying across the small space between us but I know Harry heard her, a little gasp passing his lips, his tears dampening the skin on my neck.

"How are you feeling?" Anne asks gently, patiently waiting for Harry's reply. Slowly, so slowly Harry sits up, facing her with tears on his cheeks.  
"Why are you here?" he questions with unconcealed wariness in his voice and I see Anne swallow harshly before she replies, nervously wiping away the dampness on her own cheeks.  
"Louis called me and told me about the accident, and we... we talked a bit and decided it might be good if I came to see you. There's a lot we have to talk about."  
"There's nothing to talk about!" Harry immediately shoots her down, hurt flashing across his mother's face at his blunt words. Sighing, I tighten my arms around him and pull him back against me, whispering a desperate, "Harry, please."  
It seems to undo him and he visibly deflates in my arms, shoulders slumping as he sinks back into me.  
"I... I don't understand," he starts, voice wavering as he looks at me with wide, wet eyes, betrayal shining out of them and I squeeze my eyes shut in pure pain at the hurt on his face.  
"Harry, this is for you." I begin, my voice cracking as I scramble to find the right words to say, to make this right, to make him see that I only want the best for him. "Because you blame yourself so much, you think that what happened with Gemma is your fault and you're constantly beating yourself up because of it. I hate it, Harry. I hate seeing how much you struggle because of it, so I had to get this right. Because I know your Mum doesn't blame you. She never did, and she's here to tell you that." I carefully lift my hand and run my thumb over Harry's cheek, wiping away his tears but there are too many of them, endless salty drops running down his skin.  
"It was my fault," Harry insists stubbornly, his bottom lip wobbling as he tries to control his emotions and I slowly shake my head at him.  
"It wasn't." Anne whispers, and Harry freezes. Slowly, so slowly he turns around to face her, every muscle in his body trembling.  
"What?" he breathes, his voice heavy with disbelief but there's a hint of hope in there, too.  
"It wasn't your fault, Harry. I never blamed you." Anne insists, her voice soft and smile even softer as she gently looks at Harry, and it's like a damn is broken.  
Harry's face falls, and with his face hidden behind his hands he starts sobbing. I've never seen him cry quite as violently, sob after sob shaking his body as he lets out years of self-hatred and guilt. I carefully cocoon around his body, holding him close while sharing sympathetic glances with Anne, who is crying just as violently. I gently rub my hands over his back, trying to soothe him, pressing kisses to the back of his head, but it takes a long time until Harry's sobs begin to die down, his body stilling in my arms.  
"Sorry," he rasps sheepishly, blinking up at Anne and then at me and I can't help but smile fondly as I reach for the box of tissues on the bedside table. I hand him one and press a long kiss to his cheek before handing another tissue to Anne. They wipe their faces before staring at each other with weak smiles, both unsure what to say, how to go on. I guess it's hard to find out where to start when you've got so much to talk about.  
"How about I give you two some space, yeah? You have a lot to talk about." I suggest, breaking the heavy silence in the room. Harry shoots me a panicked glance and I squeeze his waist before leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "I'll be in the cafeteria if you need me. Just message me and I'll be right back." I stand up and Harry reluctantly lets me go, his face puffy and red and God, he still looks so beautiful. He's painfully soft, almost fragile with his tear stained cheeks and raw eyes, and I carefully run the back of my knuckles over his cheek as if he were made of the finest porcelain.  
"Give this a chance, yeah? Don't ruin this for yourself, please." I whisper, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Just as I'm about to pull away I feel Harry's hands around my neck, pulling me in for a bruising kiss.  
"I love you," he promises breathlessly, his breath coming in the same uneven pants as mine and I try not to blush when I feel Anne's eyes on me because right, Harry just snogged me right in front of his mum who he hasn't seen in six years. No pressure.  
"I love you, too. Now talk it out, I'm sure it'll be good for both of you."

With one last smile at Harry and a nervous glance at Anne I slip out of the room, following the long, winding hallways to the exit of the hospital. I know I said I'd be in the cafeteria but I need fresh air to clear my head, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour. With my phone gripped tightly in my hand in case Harry calls I wander aimlessly, just to feel my legs move after sitting by Harry's bed for so long, just to feel the fresh air in my lungs and the sunshine on my face. London's surprisingly sunny this afternoon, just a handful of clouds dotting the sky and I try to take that as a good sign. I'm anxious to get back, to make sure that they don't fuck it all up but I know I have to give them time to talk and get to know each other again. So I keep walking for a while, and when I find a cute little smoothie shop on my way back to the hospital I slip inside and order a berry smoothie for myself and a green, super-healthy monstrosity for Harry because I know the bland hospital food won't make him happy at all.

 

I do end up sitting in the cafeteria for an hour, restlessly sipping the watery remnants of my smoothie, until my phone vibrates. I nearly drop it in my haste to unlock it when I see Harry's name flash across the screen. It's a simple message saying "Come back?"  
and I sigh loudly, earning confused glances from a few people sitting nearby. What kind of message is that, I think frustratedly as I hurry back to Harry's room, hiding the smoothie under my jumper in case a nurse sees me. It doesn't tell me anything, the simple 'come back?', doesn't give me any clue whether it went well or not and I nearly fall down the stairs in my haste to get back to Harry, to see if he's okay.  
When I finally burst through the door, it's to find both of them sitting on Harry's bed, Anne's hands wrapped around one of Harry's much larger ones.  
They look up at me with wet cheeks but large smiles, and all the tension inside my body falls away when I see the pure happiness on Harry's face.  
I slowly step closer, unable to hide my own relieved grin, and just as I'm about to sit down on the chair next to the bed Harry wraps his uninjured arm around my waist and pulls me down to sit on the bed next to him.   
"Hi," he beams, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips and I hear Anne chuckle lightly, making me giggle in return, their happiness infectious.  
"I brought you a smoothie," I exclaim triumphantly and pull the bottle out from my pocket. I cringe at the slimy green liquid but Harry looks absolutely ecstatic and takes the bottle from me with a delighted chuckle.  
"Ah, you saved me. I'm terrified of the food here," Harry admits and sets the smoothie down on the bedside table. "Guess that'll be my dinner, thank you." Another kiss is pressed to my temple, and I take the opportunity to whisper into Harry's ear.  
"You're good?" I whisper carefully, watching as the most beautiful, bright smile spreads over Harry's face.  
"Very good." he nods, biting down on his bottom lip to try and tame his smile but his eyes sparkle brightly and he just resonates happiness, so all I can do is smile back, my heart fluttering inside my chest.

 

 

Anne stays until after Harry's had his dinner - which he took five bites of before switching to the smoothie I brought him with a grateful look - and we fill her in on what has happened in the last months that we've know each other. It's emotional, reliving all the troubles and all the incredible moments we had, and by the time Anne gets up to leave all of us have cried more tears than I thought possible.  
I quietly stay back as Anne carefully hugs her son for a long time, neither of them wanting to let go now that they're finally back together. She promises to come back tomorrow, and with a watery smile she manages to let Harry go. I bring her to the door, a surprised yelp pushing past my lips when she suddenly wraps me up in a tight hug just outside of Harry's room.  
"Thank you, Louis. Thank you so, so, so much for bringing me my boy back." I carefully lean back to look down at her, my arms tightening around her shoulders.  
"You were the missing piece for him to be completely happy. I had to try." I explain, blushing madly when I realise just how whipped I sound.  
"I know we have a lot to talk about and it'll take time, but I really hope we can be a family again. I called Des earlier, he'll come to London soon. Harry knows, we just need to find a date."  
"That's wonderful," I smile, and I mean it one hundred percent. Because I want nothing more than for Harry to be happy.  
"You're wonderful," Anne gushes and I chuckle bashfully, dropping my gaze as my blush deepens. "You love him so much, don't you?"  
"Yeah. I do," I answer honestly, because it really is that simple. I love him, that's the one thing I know for sure.  
"I'm so glad he's got you. The way you act around each other, it's beautiful to see. He's all mushy and soft when he looks at you. I just... I always hoped I'd see him again, and after he just disappeared I had all kinds of horrible scenarios in my head. I honestly didn't expect this, to see him so happy. Settled. Deeply in love."  
"I... I didn't quite expect this either, to be honest. But, I'm so glad I've got him, too. I don't know what I'd do without him," I admit, nervously fiddling with my hands behind Anne's back. Smiling, she pushes herself onto her tippy toes and brushes a kiss against my cheek.  
"I'll see you tomorrow, take care of my boy. Good luck tonight."

 

  
"You know, there's one good thing coming from all this, apart from you finally meeting your Mum again." I state conversationally as I stroll out of the bathroom attached to Harry's hospital room, my hair still slightly wet from my shower.  
"Yeah? What's that?" Harry wonders, pulling up his blanket a bit higher. "You finally get to see me in a dress?" He smirks, tugging lightly at the thin gown on his body and I snort, my nerves skyrocketing. I walk over to his bed and sink down onto the mattress next to him, the small black box in my right hand hidden from his view.  
"Not my kink, but I'm sure you'd look good in a light pink dress." I joke, but my throat is dry and it comes out more breathless than I intended. Harry frowns, confusion glinting in his eyes but I continue before he can speak up. "No, while I sat here in this room, crying and desperately waiting for you to come back to me, I finally realised that I absolutely cannot live without you." Harry sobers, his mouth popping open as he looks at me with wide eyes. I reach out with my free hand and push a stray curl behind his ear, that one curl that never wants to stay in place.  "The thought of losing you, in whichever way, is abhorrent to me and I nearly lost you way too many times." I swallow harshly, the lump in my throat growing impossibly large and a watery laugh bubbles out of me as I think back to what we went through. "You know, when I lay awake in that hotel room in Paris google-ing quotes about love, this was never what I expected to happen. I never thought I'd get to meet someone like you, someone who I love so completely, so infinitely that the simple thought of being without them frightens me to no end." I brush my hand from his ear to his jaw, feeling his smooth skin silky soft under my fingertips, watching goosebumps raise on his arms from my simple touch. I lean forward to press one single, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away and looking up at him with wide, awestruck eyes.

"Harry Styles, I love you so, so much, and when all this is over, I want you to be mine in every way possible. I cannot bear for anyone or anything else to come between us, because I need you. I love you and I need you and I want to spend every single day of my life with you if you'll have me. The contract, me coming out, we can do it. I know we can, because we fought through so much together and I will continue fighting until the end of my life if it means getting to be with you, I promise. Will..." I start, smiling sheepishly through my tears as I pull my right hand out from behind my body, the little black box sitting snugly in my palm. Harry gasps, his eyes widening even more as fresh tears begin to trickle down his cheeks. I take a deep breath, willing my hands to stop shaking as I open the box, revealing the simple silver ring inside.

"Will you marry me?"

A few seconds of silence pass as Harry looks up at me with huge, disbelieving eyes, frozen in place, before he starts nodding his head like a madman, curls flying wildly.  
"Yes," Harry croaks, his bottom lip wobbling as he gazes at me with wet eyes, tears shimmering brightly on his cheeks. "Yes, of course." He repeats, his voice firmer. Slowly, a smile makes its way across his face, brightening the entire room. "A thousand times yes."  
Somehow, my hands don't tremble when I carefully push the ring onto his finger, because I'm not scared anymore. I'm not scared of anything, because the man I love has just agreed to marry me, and with the cold silver of his ring resting snugly against my fingers as our hands intertwine, I know nothing can stop us, not anymore.  
I lift Harry's hand so the ring shines brightly in the blindingly fluorescent light, and both of us look down at it for a moment, the silver wrapped tightly around Harry's finger.  
Lifting Harry's hand to my mouth I gently kiss the ring, my lips smoothing over the skin around it and something heavy settles in my stomach, because he's mine. Wearing my ring, soon to be my husband. _Mine_.  
I whisper the same word into his ear and Harry's eyes turn dark, his pupils widening as he leans in to wrap his arms around my neck so he can pull me into a heavy kiss, our lips meeting almost bruisingly hard but we both only press closer, needing to feel the other after all that happened. Just a few days ago I thought I might lose him forever and here he is, wearing my ring, agreeing to marry me despite all the complications in our lives. I know there are more complications to come, but I am ready to fight anyone who dares to get in our way. With Harry's kiss still fresh on my lips, I know we can make it through anything, as long as we have each other.

 

  
That night, we lay wrapped up in each other in Harry's hospital bed, with Harry on his back and me curled up on his chest, our hands locked and my fingers smoothing over his ring over and over again.  
"You were wrong, you know," Harry mumbles, sleepiness making his words syrupy slow, his deep voice slurred.  
"Hmm?" I bury my face in his chest, the hospital gown scratchy against my skin but Harry's body is warm and solid beneath me so I cuddle even closer.  
"That book you got me in Paris. The quote." Harry shifts so he can look at me, one of his hands gently brushing my fringe out of my face before coming to rest on my cheek.  
"While we were broken up, I read that quote a million times. I thought about it a lot, about what you wrote. And... you were wrong." Harry smiles playfully, fatigue softening his face as he leans down to rub his nose against mine before gently pecking my lips. "You said I was whole all along but I wasn't. I was restless, looking for something I couldn't quite define, running away from my past. I was fleeting, lost. When I met you, I realised that you held the key to a part of me I've been looking for for so long." He blinks slowly, baffled, as if he's overwhelmed by his own thoughts. "You, Louis Tomlinson, you complete me." I watch him breathlessly, my mind frozen and my heart hammering wildly in my chest, and as he spreads his hand across my chest, feeling my rapid heartbeat under his palm, he smiles the most beautiful smile I've ever seen and my lungs stop working altogether. "Now," he moves his hand slightly to the right until the light from the alarm clock is reflected off his engagement ring, illuminating the dim hospital room, "now I am finally whole."

 

 

 

...{the end}...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. 
> 
> Well, not quite, there will be an epilogue, of course. But for the main story, this is it. This is 'Without You I'll Never Make It Out Alive'.  
> Wow, I'm emotional. Thank you so, so much to anyone who ever read my story, commented, left kudos, shared it, bookmarked it, just thank you. I cannot believe this story has as many hits as it has, you guys have absolutely blown my mind and I am so grateful that you seem to like my story and had so much patience with me and my rubbish update schedule (because what update schedule, oops). You're all so damn beautiful. Thank you.  
> All the love in the world,
> 
> Lily x


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, about a year and 200k words later. The final chapter.  
> You have no idea how emotional I am. This story has been a part of my life for so long now and it seems insane that it's finished now.  
> Thank you all so so so much for all your support, kind comments, kudos and shares. You guys are why I kept writing this story and I hope you all like it as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> All the love,  
> Lily x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this epilogue consists of a lot of flashbacks that are marked as such, and we have Louis in the present making dinner as he thinks back to all the things that happened since the accident, and the wedding flashback is very long. just to make sure there's no confusion x

**{... 3 years later ...}**

 

Whistling, I park my good old red Audi next to Harrys Range Rover in our driveway and hop outside, the still warm autumn air wrapping around me like a soft blanket. It's a beautiful day - save for the soft rain falling from the sky, but hey we're still in England, so what do you expect? - the trees in front of our house burning in a golden copper, the light of the setting sun illuminating the facade of our little house from behind. It's not overly big compared to the house I had before, compared to the houses my teammates have. But I love it, it's warm and inviting and cozy, it's ours. Harrys and mine. Our house, our home. Filled with picture after picture from our numerous trips to all corners of the world and a mixture of furniture that actually shouldn't fit together but somehow it does. We moved in about a year ago, after two years of constantly shuttling between his flat and my house in Hampstead. This house lies even further north, further away from London's centre in a nice, quiet area with a big garden surrounding it, a garden where the flowers Harry grows with such dedication that it never fails to make me smile stupidly at his persistence bloom with the last energy of an ending summer.  
As soon as I push the door open the smell of the casserole Harry prepared earlier hits me, and I immediately smile at the image of Harry standing in the kitchen, curls tied into a bun, the pink apron I bought him during a football trip to Spain hanging around his hips, chopping the ingredients at lightning speed. It says 'kiss the chef!' on the apron and that's exactly why I bought it, because it gives me an excuse to kiss him even more than I already do. Besides, kitchen kisses are the best so hell yeah, kiss the chef!  
When I walk into the kitchen I find it empty, though, no chef to kiss, just a small piece of paper lying on the counter.

  
_'_ _Took Ronnie out for a walk,_  
he was restless. Food is ready,  
just needs to be warmed up.  
I'll be back soon, love you. H'

  
I smile at the thought of Ronnie, our little baby, the addition to our small family. We found the young Labrador tied to a pole in East London about 8 months ago and decided to keep him, he's such a sweetie. He's still very young and has a lot to learn, it does happen that Harry and I wake up to him slobbering all over our faces when he's hovering over us, ready for a walk or food. Sounds gross, but these are some of the most fun mornings. But then, of course every morning I get to wake up next to Harry is fun, and even more than that, it's wonderful. I have dutifully corrupted my husband into hitting the snooze button as often as possible in the morning until he absolutely has to get up for work, just so we can cuddle a bit more. Twenty minutes extra cuddling make every day better, that's what I say. I grin, thinking back to Harry grumpily cuddling back into me this morning, grumbling about how he doesn't want to get up and go to the office. He looked so beautiful in the soft autumn air, curls tumbling over his face and glowing warmly in the morning sun, skin warm and tacky, pressed against mine. Being the responsible proper man that he is he did of course get up for work and made it to the office just in time, and even if he'd been late, I know Tom would never say a word about it, he values Harry way too much.  
Tom is a gift to this world, I think gratefully, and he's been one of the most important people for me in the last three years. He helped us through so much and I will forever be grateful for what he did for me, for us. As soon as he heard that Harry had studied economics at Cambridge before he dropped out he suggested that Harry quits his bodyguard job - which Harry had been more than keen on - and works with Tom instead. So Harry went back to school, a prestigious business school in London, to finish his studies and now works as a part of the football club, sitting in the office in the morning and standing beside the pitch in the afternoon to watch me during training.  
It all worked out so well for him, once he started talking to his parents again. They had a lot of long conversations, there were lots of tears for me to wipe away but I did it gladly. And thinking about Harry now, about the skip in his steps and the wide smile he constantly seems to wear on his face, I know it was all worth it. All the tears, all the arguments we had - they were all worth it, because he's happy now. And that's all that matters.  
He's in a much better place now that he has started to let go of his guilt and has built a new relationship with his parents. He's especially close with his mum, who comes to visit us for a weekend each month and it's incredible to see how our two families have somehow melted into one big family. Mine and Harry's mum have become good friends, they meet up for coffee every other week and I have no doubt that their main topic of conversation are their totally whipped, smitten sons that still smile dopily at each other even after almost four years, but oh well. Gotta let the ladies have their chitchat, right?  
And Anne absolutely adores my sisters, I think after the loss of Gemma, she treats them like her own lost daughters. The girls absolutely love it, being pampered by their brothers mother-in-law and by the husband himself, because when could Harry Tomlinson ever resist kids? Technically they're way too old to be called kids by now, but in Harry's eyes they're still the young cheeky rascals that braided his curls years ago.

I chuckle to myself, standing in front of the stove where I slowly start warming up the food, and even after so many years together I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I finally have Harry, for good. That we're married, have built a life together. It still blows my mind every single day how good life is now, me still playing footie, Harry working for the Club's finances, both of us living in a lovely house in London with a dog and kids in planning.  
It hasn't always been like this, I remember with a bitter taste in my mouth. Especially at the beginning, after Harry came out of the hospital, things have been rough for a while, a long while. Harry recovered pretty quickly but we had to go to court several times to deal with Richard Thompson and it took weeks until he was finally sent to jail, weeks that Harry and I spent in constant stress, waking up in the middle of the night with clammy skin, clinging to each other and trading kisses to try and erase the last grips of our nightmares.  
It was a huge relief when he was finally dealt with, but it didn't take long for the east complications to arrive: me coming out. I said right from the start that I wanted to do it, as soon as it became clear to me how much I love Harry. Because I want to be with him and I don't want to hide him. I don't want to hide myself either. So Tom and the club's PR team came up with a plan and we went through with it about four months after Harry left the hospital. It was the most terrifying thing I have ever done, to be honest.  
Shuddering, I gently run my fingers over my wedding ring, a gesture that has become second nature to me whenever I am nervous or scared, to remind me of what's real and what's worth it.  
Harry was worth it, is worth it, so we went through with it. Harry used his bodyguard contacts to organise another bodyguard for me, Alberto, a bulky but fun guy that Harry has know for years and trusts completely. He's competent and discreet, and at first we had several fights about getting me a new bodyguard because Harry was so damn picky. We had several candidates but Harry didn't like any of them, so at the end of the day I yelled at him to find a damn bodyguard he's okay with if nobody meets his standards. So he did, and that's how Alberto ended up with us.  
We started the big PR plan with me making little hints in interviews, just little comments to suggest that I might not be straight. After that, Harry and I started to go out together, no more hiding. Just little walks through London, we were constantly spotted together. No kissing, no hand holding but we were together, always together, and the press picked up on it right away. There were articles upon articles about me potentially being gay, dating Harry, the lot. Some of the headlines still make me shiver, and Harry and I spent entire nights losing ourselves in each other to distract us from the outside world, to stop us from checking our social media.  
It took a few months until we picked things up another notch and hired paparazzi to take pictures of me and Harry having dinner at some fancy restaurant. Harry looked absolutely gorgeous that day, with warm chocolate curls tumbling smoothly over his shoulders, the tight cut of his all-black suit made him look so elegant and sophisticated, accentuating his broad shoulders, and the bowtie he wore made him look so boyish at the same time that I absolutely wanted to wreck him. I did, I remember, smirking when I think back to that night. It's been years, but I still remember tying Harry to the bed with that damn bowtie, remember the way his skin had felt so hot against mine and how he had arched off the bed to meet me halfway.  
We kissed that night, at the restaurant, just an innocent peck but the pictures went viral. A week later we followed it up with an official statement on Twitter, and a few days after that I posted a picture on Instagram. I still remember that day in crystal clear detail, Harry had made omelette for breakfast which we ate in tensed silence, both of us pale and tired from the lack of sleep we had the night before, nerves flooding our stomachs.

 

* ** _flashback - coming out_** *  
_"_ Fuck," I gasp, jumping up from my chair so rapidly that it topples over with the force of it. Harry flinches but doesn't look up as I hurry across the room to the balcony, a cigarette in my hand. It's an old, nasty habit and I barely ever smoke anymore, but with this tightness in my lungs and my hands shaking I just need to have a smoke, just to fill my chest with something other than dread.  
My hand trembles when I bring the cigarette to my mouth to take a deep drag, feeling the smoke fill my lungs. It's almost too much, the thick  smoke in my body but it's not nearly as much as the fear pumping so heavily through my veins, so I welcome it.  
Exhaling a shaky breath I lean across the railing of my balcony, trying to breathe deeply to calm my racing thoughts.  
A few seconds later the balcony door slides open and Harry steps outside, reaching out to pluck the cigarette from my hand. He puts it out and throws it away, and when I look up at him with apologetic eyes he doesn't look mad, not at all. His eyes are warm, understanding, and I can tell he's every bit as scared as I am.  
Wordlessly, he pulls me in a tight hug, strong arms wrapping around me to hold me close and I sink into it, into the familiar warmth of Harry's body against mine. We stay like that for the longest time, just clinging to each other, trying to find a constant, something static in his world that spins too fast.  
"You don't have to, you know." Harry starts and I shake my head before he even finishes the sentence because we've had this talk a million times.  
"I do," I disagree, pulling back a bit to look up at him without letting him go. I'll never do that.  
"Lou..." Harry mumbles, his voice thick with guilt but I shut him up with a kiss, just a short peck but it makes my breath hitch nonetheless.  
"You're not pressuring me, you idiot. Don't even start this again. I love you, and I want to be able to go out and hold your hand and kiss you. If people are ignorant and blind enough to kick me out of the team because of that then so be it, I wouldn't want to play football in a world like that anyway. But I'm not going to make you my secret, Harry. No way." Harry's face softens, the corners of his mouth slowly tilting upwards, eyes glowing warmly.  
"Okay," he whispers, leaning down to brush a kiss against my lips.  
"Okay," I repeat breathlessly, the word barely audible in the small space between us and I can't do anything but lean in, pushing myself onto my tippy toes to press our lips together. It's heady, both of us pouring all our emotion, our angst and fears into the touch of our lips, tongues entangling in a heavy battle as we cling to each other, too afraid to let go, too afraid to face reality alone.  
"Let's do it now," I pant when we pull apart, Harry's lips puffy and a dark shade of red, eyes hazy. He watches me for a moment, calculating, and then he nods. Grabbing his hand I pull him inside so I can grab my phone and then we sit down on the sofa, Harry laying comfortably between my legs, head resting on my chest as I struggle to open my camera app with trembling fingers. I nearly drop the phone twice, but Harry's body is a steady presence against mine, warm and solid and I know that no matter how this ends, I'll always have this. Him, us - even if the outside world turns out to be a mess, I'll have this. Taking a deep breath I manage to open the camera and switch it to the front camera so I can see what I'm doing.  
"How are we going to do this?" Harry mumbles, voice rough with emotions, but as I look down at him cuddled up against my chest I can't help but smile because this is exactly why I'm doing this, for him. He looks so beautiful, eyes wide and curls askew, and with my free hand I reach out to brush his hair out of his face.  
"I don't know, to be honest. Let's just experiment a little?" I suggest with a shrug and a helpless grin, and Harry chuckles nervously before nodding.  
"Alright, experimenting it is."  
Grinning, I slowly lean down to press our lips together, both of us smiling too much for a real kiss but I press the shutter anyway, taking several pictures. Still grinning, I pull away with a chuckle and shake my head at him, my eyes as dopey as his.  
"This isn't working," I start playfully, interrupted when Harry leans up to brush another kiss to my lips. "We have to..." He leans in again, this time longer, my one hand reaching down to cup his jaw as the other automatically presses the shutter, both of us exhaling into each other's mouths. We share another kiss and another with our eyes blissfully closed, and my hand almost goes limp and drops the phone as all I can focus on becomes Harry.  
"Got it?" Harry asks, whispering softly against my lips and I hum contently, pressing closer for another kiss. Giggling, Harry playfully shoves me away.  
"The pictures, Lou," and oh, right, the pictures. Blushing, I pull away with one last press of my lips and straighten up, bringing the phone up so we can both have a look.  
The pictures are beautiful, with Harry resting comfortably against my chest, his head tilted up and mine down so our lips meet.  
"I love that one," Harry points out and I immediately agree. It's a beautiful picture, snapped just before a kiss, both of us smiling as we lean in, staring at each other with happiness lighting up our eyes.  
"I love you," I counter, leaning down to press my lips against Harry's temple. "But I love the picture, too. Shall we..." I swallow audibly and Harry wraps his hand around my free one, squeezing gently. "Shall we use this?"  
"Yeah," he croaks before clearing his throat and trying again. "Yes, please."  
"Let's do this then." I fire up Instagram and select the picture, simply captioning it 'I love you' because that's all there is to say. We both hold our breaths while the picture is being uploaded, and when it's done I immediately turn off my phone before cuddling into Harry. We hold each other and hold onto each other, getting lost in our own little world and forgetting about reality for just a while longer.  
* **end of flashback** *

 

We didn't turn our phones back on until the next day, too scared to face what society had to say just yet. But when we finally did, it was okay. There were nasty people, yeah, calling us fags and demanding that I have to be kicked out of the team, because 'only real men play footie and real men aren't gay'. But the majority of people were supportive or simply didn't care at all, focusing more on my career and achievements on the pitch then on who I share a bed with.  
My teammates were great, too. Apart from the odd joke here and there, 'is that why you're so good with balls, eh?' they all welcomed me back with open arms, and when I came home after my first training after coming out I found Harry asleep on the sofa with kitchen nightmares on the TV, and I simply cuddled into him and cried. It was cathartic, all the stress and the relief that had built up inside of me released in the form of tears. Harry held me through it all, and when I finally calmed down he whispered a simple "we'll be okay," into my ear.  
"Yes," I replied, and for the first time in months my voice didn't waver in the slightest. "We will."

  
Shaking out of my memories I walk across the kitchen to take two bottles of beer out of the fridge, and as I push the door closed again I let my hand swipe over the magnets stuck to our fridge, all from different destinations that Harry and I have travelled to together. We used the last three years not only to explore each other but also to explore the world together, and Harry had made a habit out of collecting cheap little magnets from every single place we've visited.

 

* ** _flashback - Rome, Italy_** *  
_I swipe my tongue across the ice cream cone in my hand, mint chocolate chip melting deliciously in my mouth. I look down at the second cone in my other hand with a concerned frown on my face, the buttery coconut ice cream melting and running down the cone, dripping onto my fingers. With a shrug, I simply bring it to my mouth and lick the melting ice cream off, not too concerned with Harry's anger because really, it's 35 degrees outside and he should know better than to leave his ice cream in my custody.  
Besides, it's his fault if he wants to bloody go shopping and is too eager to check out the cute little shop in front of me because "it has penis shaped noodles, Lou. We need to buy some." Right.  
I finish off both of our ice creams, and when Harry comes back he's carrying a large bag full of touristy rubbish that no one really needs but buys anyway. I just hope he didn't get me an I ❤️ Rome shirt, because I am absolutely not that kind of guy. No way. Except, when Harry just grins and hands me a black shirt with a knowing smile, I groan in mock annoyance and take off my own shirt to pull the I love Rome one over my head.  
"You're a menace, Harry." I declare, but my wide grin betrays me. Harry chuckles, shrugging innocently, and I take the bag from him to look through the other stuff he bought. "Three packs of penis shaped pasta, alright then. You gonna make them for dinner when our mums come over next week?" I suggest with a smirk and Harry shrugs, grinning.  
"I bet they're delicious." I laugh, imagining our mums frowning at the pasta on their plates while trying not to let their bewilderment show, and continue to dig through the content of Harry's bag, until...  
"A magnet? Really?"  
"We've got a home now, Lou. We've got to decorate it with personal stuff." Harry defends his purchase, an amused sparkle in his eyes and I snort, tossing the magnet back into the bag.  
"And out of all the possible decoration you decide to go for a cheesy magnet?" I deadpan, and Harry simply smiles proudly and nods. "Why am I married to you again?"  
"Because you love me." He leans in to kiss my cheek, then pulls back to frown at my empty hands. "Did you eat my ice cream?"_  
* ** _end of flashback_** *

 

  
* ** _flashback - NYC, Christmas_** *  
_"_ You okay?" I mumble quietly, trying not to disturb the people around us. It's dark, the only light coming from the dimmed lamps illuminating the aisle. I can barely make out Harry's features on the reclined seat next to me, wrapped up in a blanket. It's eerily quiet on the plane, the only sound the humming of the engines and snores coming from somewhere further in the back, but I can still make out the rustling of Harry's blanket, letting me know he's awake and restless.  
"Yeah, fine. Just can't sleep," he whispers back just as quietly, his voice nothing more than a breath of air. Suppressing a yawn I sit up, my own blanket pooling in my lap. I gaze over at him, grinning widely when he mirrors my movements, sitting up with wild curls sticking away from his head. He looks so soft in the dim light of the airplane, broad shoulders almost fragile, muscles hidden in the shadows until all that's left are tired eyes and soft dimples.  
For a moment I'm reminded of the first time we were on a plane together, back when we flew to South Africa, and all I could see was the back of his head because we had to stay apart. How things have changed, I think gratefully, emotion welling up inside me. My fingers twitch, fisting the thin material of the blanket, longing to wrap around him, to feel him close to me. And you know what? Fuck it, I think as I scramble to stand up, feeling Harry's surprised eyes follow my every move. With two steps I'm in front of his seat and without a moment of hesitation I do what I've wanted to do ever since that flight to South Africa - I cuddle up on his lap.  
A surprised sound pushes past Harry's lips, a high hum that is swallowed by the sound of the engines, but he doesn't hesitate before he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. With me pressed to his chest Harry slowly sinks back until he's laying on his side, me tucked under his arm. It's a tight fit, airplane seats definitely weren't made for two grown men to sleep together, but we make it work. Sighing in content I snuggle closer, sliding one of my legs between his to erase all the space between us.  
"Good?" Harry whispers, warm breath hitting my neck and I nod against his chest, burying my face in the thick fabric of the jumper he's wearing. Amidst all the sterilisers and cleansers in the ventilated air, it smells like home away from home.  
"Now I am." A quiet chuckle shakes Harry's body, and I fall asleep to the feeling of warm hands drawing mindless patterns onto my back, the hum of the air conditioning growing distant as I drift off.

_"_ How much nuts for nuts is too much nuts for nuts?" Harry asks, sounding genuinely confused as he studies the stand in front of us, watching the guy behind the stand fill nuts into a paper bag. There's a frown on his face, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout as he tries to figure out if he should get the medium or large sized bag, and I can't help but chuckle loudly.  
"You're nuts. Only you would stop outside to get nuts in the middle of NYC in the winter instead of going to a cafe. It's fucking freezing," I tease, stepping closer to sling an arm around his waist. Snorting, Harry turns to press a quick kiss to my temple, the laughter coming out in a puffy cloud of warm air.  
"I'll be quick," he promises, sliding his arm around me to sneak his hand into the back pocket of my jeans, playfully squeezing my arse.  
"Oi, Harry! If you want my nuts, they're at the front." Barking out a laugh Harry accepts the medium sized bag of nuts with a bright smile and I giggle, hiding my face in his coat. It's strange, I think to myself, how time sometimes seems to just suddenly stop, just to let you have a certain moment for a while longer. We're standing in New York City a few days before Christmas, bright lights and millions of people around us yet right now, it seems like there's nobody but Harry and me. Nobody but us, standing close on the sidewalk, cuddled together to fight the cold. The pap I spotted earlier is probably snapping a thousand pictures right now, and no doubt there are other people taking pictures and videos of London's football star out with his boyfriend for some Christmas shopping, but as Harry slips his hand into mine and intertwines our fingers I can't find it in me to care. Who cares about the rest of the world when I have him right here, with me?

  
"Oh no. No way, Harry," I yell, blindly walking backwards and nearly stumbling over my own feet. Harry catches me, strong hands wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.  
"Hell yes, Lou. We're going to do this." Harry whispers excitedly, wrapping around me from behind and pressing his cheek against mine as we stare ahead at the ice rink, colourful fairy lights dancing across the sparkly surface.  
"But I suck at ice skating," I whine, slumping in Harry's arms as I remember all the bruises I got from taking my sisters to the ice rink when we were younger.  
"It's a good thing you've got me to hold your hand, then." Harry grins cheekily, curls poking out underneath his beanie and alright, yeah. Ice skating, wohoo.  
"If you let me fall and damage the goods, you're not getting fucked tonight," I warn him with one finger raised, earning a chuckle.  
"I'm not too worried about that," he replies easily, releasing me to get skates for both of us. Turning back around he flashes me a smirk and God, bloody cocky sexy idiot.

_"_ How do you even walk in these things?" I groan, gripping onto the bench as I try to carefully push myself up into a standing position. I'm used to cleats on my feet but not a single blade, and with knocking knees I sink back down onto the bench, huffing.  
"You just walk," Harry explains helpfully, appearing in front of me with his own skates secured on his feet.  
"Ha ha," I deadpan, looking up at him to shoot him a murderous glare but it fades as soon as I lay eyes on him, my throat going dry.  
He looks incredible in the soft glow of the fairy lights, thick thigh muscles flexing as he walks towards me and I swallow harshly, hoping desperately that he won't let me fall because fuck, I need to get fucked tonight. No, right now. This very second.  
"Lou? You still with me?" Harry smirks, sounding extra smug as he blinks down at me as if he knows exactly what I've been thinking. God damn, why does he know me so well?  
"Right here, boss. Now let's get this party started." With his help I manage to stand up and wobble towards the ice rink, though I'm sure it looks less than grateful.  
"Fucking hell, you shouldn't see me like this, you're supposed to find me sexy," I complain, grinning when Harry barks out a laugh.  
"Lou, I saw you dressed in your Mum's favourite pink sweater and knee socks with a red nose when you were sick last month. You're still the sexiest, I promise." Harry almost manages to look sincere, but the giggle that pushes past his lips when I carefully step onto the ice betrays him.  
"Oh sod off, will you," I grumble playfully, turning to skate away from him but of course, those bloody skates won't obey. With my legs crossing I nearly smash straight to the floor, but Harry's by my side in a second to catch me.  
"Fuck me, you really are useless on the ice," he laughs, ignoring my playful growl and instead pressing his face into my hair. "It's cute."  
"Cute? I'm going to give you cute, Mr. Tomlinson." With my bottom lip bitten into my mouth in concentration I manage to turn around without falling so I can face Harry, who is beaming down at me with the brightest smile.  
"Please do, Mr. Tomlinson." His smile looks almost painful, dimples on full display and eyes shining brightly and I feel my mouth mirror his, because even after a year of being married I still get the same kick out of calling him Harry Tomlinson. My husband.  
Reaching out I carefully take a step towards him, wrapping my hands around his. Even through the fabric of our gloves I can feel the wedding ring on his finger, digging into my skin as I entwine our hands and making my heart beat just a bit faster.  
"Do you..." I start, but my left foot suddenly slips on the ice and before I know it I'm on the floor, icy water seeping through my coat. Harry lands on top of me with a yelp, knocking all the air out of my lungs.  
"Oops?" I laugh sheepishly, brushing a stray curl off his forehead.  
"Hi," Harry blinks up at me from underneath his beanie, smiling warmly, wide green eyes glowing fondly.  
"You let me fall," I breathe, my gaze snapping from Harry's eyes to his lips and back up, time slowing down as we stare at each other.  
"You pulled me down!" Harry protests weakly, neither of us making an attempt to get up just yet even though I can feel the icy water seeping through my jeans. But Harry's body is warm and solid against mine, pinning me to the ground.  
"That was all planned. A proper romantic move." I explain, lifting my hand to run my fingers across his cheek. Smiling, he leans into the contact.  
"Romantic move? Nearly breaking my bones and drowning me in ice water?" Harry teases, propping his head up on my chest and my laughter softens into a small, private smile.  
"No, not that," I admit before leaning down to capture his lips with mine. "But this," I breathe against his lips before leaning in again, kissing Harry on the floor of an ice rink in the middle of New York, and time is frozen once again as our lips move in sync.  
* ** _end of flashback_** *

 

 

Chuckling to myself I turn down the stove and grab some plates, the cream coloured ones with purple flower designs on them that Harry's mum bought for our wedding anniversary last summer. I set them down on the table and put the cutlery down as well. Before I met Harry I used to eat on the sofa, using the same bowl for literally everything, so setting the table is still an adventure for me but Harry has taught me well, so now I know where the forks go and how to fold napkins so they actually look nice. The things I do for that man, honestly. Shaking my head in disbelief at how gooey he makes me I cross the living room to light up the little fireplace in the corner. It's cozy, and Harry and I love snuggling on the sofa with the fire crackling, casting a warm glow over the room, Ronnie snoring loudly from his place in front of the fireplace. Once I'm satisfied with the little fire I straighten up and make sure the house can't burn down, and my eyes land on the large, framed picture sitting on the mantelpiece. It warms my entire body more than the fire, seeing Harry and me dressed up in suits, smiling widely at each other in front of the altar. I pick up the picture with a slightly trembling hand, my thumb reaching out to gently trace over Harry's smiling face. He looked so beautiful that day, and I was so, so nervous. Even before our biggest games I have never been as nervous as I've been that day.

 

* ** _flashback - The Wedding_** *  
Up and down, in and out. Up and down... I try to focus on breathing, nervous legs carrying me from one end of the room to the other and back with shaky steps.  
"Ten minutes, Lou," Tom, my best man, declares, straightening out his suit. My head snaps up so I can look at him with wide eyes, shooting him a fearful glance.  
"Fuck," I breathe on an exhale, lifting my hands to run them over my face, my palms sweaty. "Cuff links, I need my cuff links..." I whisper distractedly, frantically searching the room for them until Tom points to the little table next to the door, my new cuff links sparkling in the bright sunlight. They were made specifically for today and Harry has an identical pair, simple and plain with our initials engraved into them, an H entwined with an L. I pick one up with shaking fingers, fumbling with it as I try to put it in the buttonhole on my sleeve. I nearly drop it several times, and my mum finally takes pity on me and comes over, taking the cuff link from me with gentle hands.  
"Lou..." she sighs, fastening the left, then the right one without any troubles. "Why are you so nervous? It's not like Harry is going to leave you standing at the altar."  
"I know..." I mumble distractedly, pulling at my tie to straighten it out.  
"Then why the nerves, boo?" she questions gently, smoothing her hands over my suit jacket, the dark fabric silky under her hands.  
"Because... It's finally getting real, you know? Harry and I have struggled for so long and now I finally get to marry him, start a new life with him and I'm so excited." I exhale a long breath, reaching out to grab my mums hands to have something to hold on to. "So, so excited. It's crazy to think that we made it so far, that this is finally happening and I just want it to be perfect. I don't want this to go wrong. So much went wrong, but not this." I whisper, dropping my gaze to the floor, unable to look my mum in the eye. "Not this."  
Humming in understanding she gently squeezes my hands once before pulling me into a tight hug, careful not to wrinkle my suit.  
"Loubear, no. It's not going to go wrong, I promise. How could it? It's perfectly planned, the sun is shining, everybody is ready and excited and you've got Harry waiting for you downstairs. I talked to him earlier and he's so happy, Lou, he couldn't stop smiling for a second. Don't doubt this." Mum whispers into my ear, and slowly I feel myself relaxing at her words. Harry, right. I have to focus on him, my beautiful boy who is waiting for me downstairs. Who trusts me and loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Warmth shoots through my veins at the thought of him and I feel myself smiling, wondering how he looks. I know he's gonna look gorgeous, he always does, but we picked out or suits separately so I have no clue what he's wearing.  
"Yeah, you're right, Mum," I admit, squeezing her close for a second before releasing her and stepping back.  
"Of course I am," she gives me the typical Tomlinson smirk and I laugh, the sound bubbling out of me and it's a relief. In just a short amount of time, the Tomlinson family will have another member, and god knows Harry already has the smirk perfected.  
"Just enjoy this, Lou. It's your big day, don't be nervous. Harry loves you and you love him, there's nothing to worry about," she assures me one last time, leaning up on her tippy toes to press a quick kiss to my cheek. "I'll be downstairs, see you in a few minutes. Try not to cry." With a cheeky wink she leaves the room and heads downstairs to wait with the rest of the guests, her seat is of course in the front row right next to Anne, who had already been crying when I saw her earlier. After that, I made sure there are two extra packs of tissues under our Mum's chairs, just in case.

  
"You ready, Lou?" Tom asks quietly and I flinch, I had completely forgotten about him. I look over at him with panic flashing through my eyes and he grins easily, a cheeky sparkle in his eyes.  
"Don't shit your pants, Tommo. It's gonna show through your suit," he teases, reaching out to tug at the jacket of my light blue suit. I giggle breathlessly, swatting his hand away.  
"Maybe I should've gone for a black suit after all..." I groan playfully, theatrically clutching my stomach and Tom laughs loudly, the sound echoing through the room. I join him, my laughter quieter but it's there and I slowly feel the tension melt away from my body.  
"C'mon, let's do this." Stepping closer, Tom slings one of his arms around my shoulders and hugs me against his side for a moment. "I'm so proud of you for doing this."  
I know Tom doesn't just mean today, he means everything that happened in the past, me becoming a professional football player, finding Harry and getting over my horrible party persona, coming out and fighting to keep my career - Tom has been there through it all and I wrap him up in a hug, trying to show him just how thankful I am that he's my friend.  
"Stop saying shit like that or I'll start crying before the ceremony has even started," I admonish but there's a smile on my face and a fond look in my eyes, and I know Tom can see in my eyes what I can't say out loud.  
"You're a tosser, Tomlinson." Releasing me, Tom steps towards the door and holds it open for me, the sound of soft music reaching my ears and my insides tighten. "And there's another tosser waiting to become a Tomlinson downstairs, so you better get going." Nodding, I take a careful step towards the door but pause, looking at Tom with alarmed eyes.  
"You've got the rings, right?" Chuckling, Tom shakes his head at me and grabs my arm to physically pull me out of the room.  
"You've asked me this for the fifth time now, Louis. Yes, I've got the rings."  
Okay, right. I can do this. I can totally do this, I just have to walk down the isle to Harry and get married. Easy. No big deal. Fuck.

My heart is beating violently inside my chest, my palms getting sweaty as I step down the stairs and out into the bright sunlight. It's a beautiful summer day, a few fluffy clouds dotting the sky, the tall dark walls of [Farnham Castle](http://www.wedding-venues.co.uk/venuedetails/farnham-castle-in-surrey.aspx) a striking contrast to the white and light blue decoration on the tables set up on the lawn. The location is gorgeous, both Harry and I fell in love with it straight away when we first saw it. Medieval castle walls but bright, modern interior and decoration, it's the perfect mixture and I know we chose the right location when I let my eyes travel across the lawn, taking in the rows of smiling people sitting in front of the tall wall, facing an arcade with tall, thick pillars, decorated with white roses. I lift my gaze up from the roses and to the left, and I nearly choke on nothing but thin air, Toms grip on my arm the only thing that keeps me from stumbling.  
Harry is standing there in a classic black tux, a bow tie finishing off the look and for a moment I forget how to breathe. He's too beautiful, chocolate curls tumbling over his shoulders, long legs endless in the tight black trousers and fuck, why did I ever have doubts about this? Our eyes meet, and the most blindingly beautiful smile spreads across Harry's face, dimples on full display and I smile back so wide it's almost painful, Toms grip on my arm tightening as I subconsciously speed up, trying to get to Harry faster. It doesn't take long until I finally reach him but it feels like forever, our eyes locked the entire time until I'm finally, finally standing next to him, reaching out to take his hand. Winking down at me Harry entwines our fingers, his palm warm against mine and I immediately feel anchored to him, to this moment. He is why I'm here, he's why I risked everything by coming out, because I love him. After all the troubles this is our moment, and I gently squeeze his hand, grinning like a lovesick fool when he squeezes right back.

 

The ceremony passes in a blur of crying and kind words from the priest, Harry's warm hand wrapped around mine the only constant. Smiling down at me, Harry turns to face me and grabs my second hand in his, too, twisting me so we're looking at each other.  
"Louis," Harry starts, chuckling quietly along with the guests when Niall teasingly hollers, "We all know his name, get on with it!"Niall's voice is tight with emotion and I quickly snap my head up to give him an amused shake of my head, seeing the tears on his face and I get the feeling I won't be able to hold mine back any longer, not when Harry is about to say his vows. I turn back to him, giving his hands an encouraging squeeze.  
"Death to the Irish," Harry whisper-shouts, eliciting another round of laughter from the guests. Then his face sobers and he straightens up, squaring his shoulders as he looks at me for a moment, not doing anything, just looking with earnest eyes and I forget how to breathe.  
"You know, when my agent first told me that a footie champ from London needed a bodyguard, I expected a bratty, annoying young thing who would make my life hell. A lot of those predictions came true when I first saw you. You were bratty and annoying," I cast my eyes down at that, trying to hide my grin at Harry's teasing words, "but you didn't make my life hell," he adds softly, his eyes shining with so much love and okay, that's it, I think weakly, here come the tears, da da da da. "You never made it hell." Harry rasps just loud enough for me to hear, wiping away the tears that had started to fall from my eyes with a gentle hand. Clearing his throat he continues loud enough for the guests to hear, his voice gruff.  
"Instead you showed me that there's so much more to you than what the media sees, you showed me how gentle and caring and smart and funny you are, you turned my entire life upside down because I never expected for my duties and my wishes to clash as much as they did when you came into my life." I cringe at the memory, at all the time it took to convince Harry to be with me despite the business relationship between us, to ignore his professionalism and build a life with me instead. "Because I fell in love with you, absolutely, completely in love with you." I hear Harrys shuddered breath, see the watery smile on his face and in this very moment I wonder if it's possible to love someone as much as I love him. "It was hard at first, but we made it through. We made it through everything so far and I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of what you did. You're now an openly gay premiere league football star, an icon so many young people look up to, and I couldn't be prouder of you. I'm so incredibly thankful and stunned that you went through all that just to be with me and I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life making it worth it for you. I promise to be by your side always, to support you in everything you do, to take care of any footie injuries and to make you as much Mac'n'Cheese as you want. But most of all, I promise to love you unconditionally for the rest of my life." I'm full-on crying by the end of Harry's speech, his face blurring behind a curtain of tears and I want to kiss him so much to show him how I feel, because I've never been as good with words as he is. But I can't kiss him just yet, so I settle for lifting our intertwined hands and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist, the 'I love you' that I whisper into his skin earning me a throaty giggle.  
"That was so beautiful I don't know if I can keep up with it," I admit breathlessly, making Harry softly shake his head. "But I'll try. You know I'm not very good with words, which is why I used cheesy Google quotes to tell you I love you for the first time, but I'll do my best. When I met you, I wasn't gay. Well, at least I didn't know that I was. You were right, I was that horrible little brat you described earlier and then you walked in, all calm and collected and it drove me insane because right from the start there was something special about you. Back then I had no idea that I would fall in love with you, but I looked at you and I thought, 'you. You're going to be special.' Special doesn't even begin to cover what you are to me, though, and after endless hours of Google research I can honestly say there isn't a word out there that is enough to describe what you mean to me." I have completely forgotten what I originally wanted to say, but as I look into Harry's eyes and see the single tear sliding down his cheek the words come easily, like my heart knows exactly what to say. "You said it was difficult at the beginning, and I can't deny that it was. We both risked so much to be together and I will forever be grateful that I was stubborn enough to get you to let go of your damn sense of responsibility." I think I can hear Tom's loud laugh coming from the crowd but I'm not sure, not when all I can focus on his Harry's face, his eyes soft, almost reverent as he listens intently. "But standing here now, with you, I know that it was all worth it and that I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it means getting you. Because apart from making sure I eat my veggies you showed me just how good I could be, you rediscovered a part of me that I had almost forgotten about. You make me a better person day after day and I will forever be thankful that you choose to love me, because life without you just doesn't work for me." I take a deep breath after that statement, watching fresh tears cascade down Harry's face and it would break my heart to see him cry if it weren't for the look of utter love on his face. "I promise to stay by your side always, to not put up too much of a fight when you make broccoli dishes, to be there for you whenever you need me and to take care of you every single day of our lives. And I promise to always put you first, no matter what, to treat you like the most important person that you are, and to love you until the day I die." Applause rises from the guests, mixing with sniffs and sobs but it's blurry, barely reaching my ears as Harry mouths 'I love you' with tears on his face and love in his eyes.  
And as we turn to face the priest once more, exchanging rings and getting declared husband and husband under the roaring applause from our families and friends, I can't help but think, we made it. We really made it.

  
The sun begins to set over the soft hills in the distance, dipping the entire venue in a golden shimmer. It's a beautiful mild summer evening, the smell of flower bouquets fresh in the air and I lean back in my chair, letting my gaze travel over the people I love, dancing and chatting with happy smiles on their faces, standing in small groups and enjoying the last rays of the sun. I spot Anne and my mum standing not too far away, chatting animatedly, glasses of red wine in their hands and from their flushed cheeks and bright eyes I can tell they're not the first glasses they've had this evening. They're standing close, laughing loudly at something my mum says. Knowing her, it's probably an embarrassing story about me when I was younger, lord knows she has a lot of those. I smile fondly at the two of them, both looking gorgeous in their dresses and my heart warms as I look around at all the people I love and the people Harry loves coming together.  
"Look at Niall," Harry leans over to whisper into my ear before nuzzling my hair, nudging my head in the direction where Niall is currently dancing with the twins, both girls looking beyond adorable in their creamy white flower girl dresses. Niall cackles loudly, nearly stumbling as he spins first Daisy and then Phoebe.  
"He's so drunk," I laugh, entangling my fingers with Harry's when he wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.  
"He is," Harry agrees warmly, his voice pleasantly rough. "It's good to see him happy. It's good to see everyone here so happy." As Harry looks around with wide, glowing eyes I can tell he's having the same thoughts that I had earlier, about seeing all the important people in our lives united. Watching him with a quiet smile on my lips I run my finger down his ring finger and over the ring sitting there, the platinum shining warmly in the soft orange light and I wonder how I managed to get so lucky. Focusing his glance on me Harry grins softly, eyes sparkling as he tightens his arm around me.  
"I love you, Mr. Tomlinson."  
"I love you too, Mr. ..." I hesitate for a moment, my mouth split in half by a huge, uncontrollable grin because holy fuck. "Mr. Tomlinson." Harry is Mr. Tomlinson now, too. My Mr. Tomlinson. Harry beams, humming in content as he leans closer, both of us smiling too wide for a proper kiss, it's just lips pressed together as we exhale giddily in each other's mouths and it's absolutely perfect.  
Somewhere next to us I hear the shutter of a camera going off, and one of Harry's friends who offered to be the photographer tonight hums in delight before exclaiming, "Such a bloody cute picture!" Neither Harry nor I even look at him, we just continue to stare at each other, grinning softly.  
"I'm going to get that picture framed so I can put it on the fireplace in the living room, just so you know," I announce, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Harry's ear before leaning in and kissing him again, just to prove that I can.

The stars sparkle brightly above us as we make our way to the waiting car, crickets chirping loudly in the grass as Harry and I walk away from the gorgeous castle, applause following us as the remaining guests wave goodbye. Just as we pass our families and closest friends I see Niall's and Liam's wide smirks, my sisters hiding something with their hands clasped behind their backs and, oh shit.  
"Run!" Harry yells on a giggle, realising at the same time what they're planning, and I break into a fit of laughter as we sprint towards the car, cheers erupting as we're showered in rice. Liam especially has a strong right arm and keeps flicking the rice right into my collar so it falls under my shirt, tickling my skin and I shoot him my middle finger as I run, trying to keep up with Harry's much longer strides. He tries to block me from the worst of it but we're both showered in white little flakes as we tumble into the backseat of the waiting car, laughing madly and gasping for air.  
"C'mere," I gasp, holding my stomach as I try to catch my breath and lean over to reach for Harry who obediently leans in, still huffing out laughs. "You got..." I suck in a breath, more giggles bubbling out of me as I take in the state of Harry's hair. "Your hair looks like a rice plantation."  
Snorting, Harry leans forward and lets me pluck the rice out of his hair. Once I'm satisfied I let my hands slide down his neck to his shoulders, his muscles tight and warm underneath the silky fabric of his jacket. He looks down at me with burning eyes, the amusement fading slowly as his eyes become more serious, urgent.  
"How are you feeling, Mr. Tomlinson?" I whisper, smoothing my hands down his chest. My heart flutters wildly at the name and I hear Harry's breath hitch, his own hands settling on my hips to pull me closer.  
"So happy," he breathes against my mouth, "so fucking happy, Lou." The kiss deepens, tongues sliding wetly together as I kiss the 'me too' onto his lips.

_-_

_"_ Back again," Harry says brightly as he steps out of the plane, a breeze mussing up his curls, ray bans sitting crookedly on his nose. I grin up at him, shouldering my hand luggage as I breathe in the warm, South African air.  
When we talked about our honeymoon there was not a single doubt in either of us that it had to be South Africa, the first place we went to together, the first place where we truly felt free, even if it was just for a few days. South Africa was the first place where we didn't have to hide, and now that we truly don't have to hide anymore we knew we had to come back, just to see how far we have come in the last years.  
"I can't wait to get a tan," I tell him as we walk to the bus waiting to take us to the terminal, lifting my hand to wipe my fringe off my slightly sweaty forehead. It's not my fault that it's about twice as warm here as it is in London.  
"Hmm, yes. Love it when you're tan." With an innocent face Harry reaches out to playfully squeeze my bum with one of his large hands, making me squeal and jump in surprise. That cheeky little shit.  
"Harry! Hands off!" I yell, grinning and trying to swat his hand away and nearly dropping my carry on bag in the process.  
"No way, I'm married to this bum. There's no stopping me, baby."  
"Is that your way of calling me an arse?" I tease, shuffling into the bus after him and squeezing onto the seat next to him, dropping my bag to the floor.  
"Ah, you got me there." Harry groans in faux-innocence, winking when I elbow him in the side.  
"You're an idiot," I exclaim in mock exasperation, reaching out to untangle his curls that got stuck in his sunglasses when I see him struggle with it.  
"But I'm your idiot." Leaning in, Harry nudges his nose against my cheek and presses a smacking kiss to my skin, giddy excitement shining out of bright green eyes and it's contagious, his pure happiness. I snort at the pure cheesiness of his words but I know he can see the excitement on my face, too, the wondrous disbelief in my eyes because I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I'm married to him, finally.  
"Thank god you are." I gently poke the tip of his nose with my finger, knowing that he'll have sunburn in the exact same spot by tomorrow evening because his nose always burns a little bit. It's crazy to think about the fact that I know him so well, all these little details about him and his body and he knows me just the same. He knows everything about me and loves me still, and I don't think this will ever stop blowing my mind.  
"Right, c'mere my idiot, your Tarzan hair is in danger." My voice is slightly gruff, emotional, and Harry sends me a small smile that says 'I know exactly how you feel' before shuffling closer again so I can free his sunglasses from his hair.  
"Excuse me?" A thin, hesitant voice comes from behind us and I look up from Harry's hair to see the older lady in the seat behind us staring at us with wide eyes.  
"Yes?" Harry asks politely, managing to sound far less annoyed than I would have because what does she want? I swear to god if she starts homophobic shit now I won't be responsible for my actions because this is my honeymoon and I will take absolutely zero bullshit. But as I look closer I notice that she doesn't look disgusted, not at all. Instead there are tears in her eyes as she watches us with a smile, my hands still in Harry's hair, Harry's hands wrapped around my waist.  
"Are you... I'm sorry, I'm not meaning to be intrusive but, you're married aren't you?"  
"We are," I confirm, feeling Harry's hands tighten their grip on me as he nods, and much to both of our horror she starts crying in earnest, thick tears rolling down her cheeks. Completely out of my depth I stare at Harry for help because what on earth is going on, but he looks just as clueless, shrugging before he reaches out to place a careful hand on her arm.  
"Ma'am, are you okay?" Sniffing, she wipes her eyes with a tissue and nods, chuckling bashfully.  
"Yes, I'm so very okay. My grandson just came out as gay about two weeks ago, he's 19. It was a big shock for all of us. Of course we support and love him but I know a lot of people don't accept homosexuality, so I know it won't be easy for him. But seeing you two so happy together gives me so much hope that he can find a good man and have a happy family." Oh. Wow. We..we give people hope. That's... That's beautiful, I think dazedly, unable to fully process what she just said.  
"It's not easy," I agree with her, smiling encouragingly despite my words as I slide one of my hands down to Harry's neck, my thumb brushing over his collarbone where his skin is so incredibly soft and sensitive. As if on cue, goosebumps rise on his skin to meet my touch. "But it's also not impossible. If you find someone who is worth it and you're willing to fight for it, then you can definitely be very, very happy." I try to contain my dopey smile but from the fond look that appears on the woman's face I must be failing miserably.  
"And you should be very proud of your grandson for coming out, he's very brave. It's not easy when you first come out but with a supportive family and friends it's okay. I'm sure he will be fine." Harry adds, explaining his own experiences to her and I tighten my grip on his neck, squeezing gently to support him because I know that it still saddens him to think back to when he first came out, because Gemma was so important for him in the process. I decide to just nod in agreement instead of saying anything, because my own coming out wasn't as normal as that. Unless you consider hundreds of magazines reporting on London's football star being gay 'normal'. The older woman just nods seriously, taking in everything we say with a hopeful spark in her light grey eyes.  
"Thank you so much, I'm definitely going to tell Jamie about you two, it's going to give him so much hope. When did you get married, if you don't mind me asking?"  
Grinning, Harry and I turn to face each other, amusement bright on our faces.  
"Yesterday," he admits, subconsciously holding up his hand with his wedding ring as if he still can't quite believe it's there, sitting snugly on his fourth finger. I raise my hand next to his, the matching rings shining in the bright African sun.  
"Oh my god," the woman yells, clapping her hands in sheer excitement as she shoots up from her chair to wrap us both up in a hug. Harry and I go willingly, sharing a slightly bewildered glance behind her back before we laugh resignedly, letting her cling to us.  
"Congratulations to both of you, I hope you're going to have a wonderful honeymoon and a wonderful life together!" There's a chorus of congratulations coming from the other people around us, most of them smiling genuinely, without any disgust and my heart warms at this sudden sign of affection from all these strangers.  
"Thank you all so much," Harry gushes, positively glowing under the attention and I smile thankfully at everyone, slipping my hand into Harry's and holding on tight.

  
"Fuck, Lou!" Harry groans, his hips snapping into me faster and faster as he chases his release, propelling me up the bed with every thrust.  
"Oh god, Harry," I gasp after a particularly deep thrust that hits my prostate dead on, my legs tightening around his hips as I dig my fingers into his shoulders, needing something to hold onto. His skin is slippery against mine, sweat coating both of our bodies despite the aircon being turned on.  
"Sh-shit." Harry turns his head to press his lips to my jaw, sucking lightly before panting against my wet skin, sending a shiver down my spine.  
"C'mon, baby, faster," I demand breathily, raking my nails down Harry's back and leaving angry red marks across his skin that make him shudder into my touch, a wonderful raw noise releasing from deep within his throat. Twisting upwards from the bed I run my lips over his throat, sucking harshly right where his neck meets his shoulder, his skin warm against my lips. I pull away with a plop, satisfied with the angry red bruise beginning to blossom on his neck. I press soothing little kisses to the bruised, salty skin before scraping my teeth across it once, making Harry's hips stutter.  
"Lou," he moans on a long exhale, his grip on my hips tightening so he can lift me up a bit, changing the angle just so and...  
"Fuck!" I scream, my entire body trembling as Harry hits my prostate dead on with every thrust, strong thighs flexing underneath my hands when I move them from his hips to his legs, digging my fingers into his bum to push him in deeper. "Love marking you up," I slur breathlessly, so close to falling apart, my eyes threatening to fall close but I want to watch him, want to see Harry's face and that hazy look in his eyes. "Love showing the world that you're mine," I go on, gasping the words into Harry's mouth. He tastes like the fruity white wine we had with dinner, and like sunshine and toothpaste and I kiss him until all I can taste is Harry.  
"All yours," Harry agrees on a moan, kissing from my mouth to my jaw and across my jawbone, nuzzling my stubble that I kept on purpose because I know how much he loves his beard burn. Tugging my earlobe between his teeth he whispers, "your husband," his voice agonisingly low, nothing more than a deep purr and holy hell, yes. My husband. All mine, in all ways possible.  
"Hmm, yes, Harry, shit!" I arch up against him, one hand digging into his shoulder and the other tangling into his hair, yanking his head to the side to reveal the pale skin on the other side of his neck that I haven't marked yet and I greedily sink my teeth into it, soothing the skin with my lips as I hide my groan in his skin. Come shoots up between us, streaking my stomach and Harry's chest as I collapse back onto the bed, my body shaking uncontrollably.  
Harry follows suit not long after, coming with his head resting on my chest as he empties himself inside of me with a shout of my name before crashing into me. I wrap him up in my arms, both of us breathing heavily. We're gross, sand and salty water and come sticking to our heated skin but I can't find it in me to care, not when Harry blinks lazily and smiles in content, like he's the happiest he's ever been.

  
Blinking, I open my eyes to bright light falling through the open window, the silky white curtains blowing in a gentle breeze that cools my sweaty, overheated skin. I can see the beach from here, the waves rolling calmly to the shore, a distant swoosh that only adds to the peaceful silence in the room.  
Carefully lifting my head from his chest I look up at Harry, fondness bubbling inside my chest as I take in his messy after-sex hair, long curls splayed around his face like a halo. He's pouting slightly like he always does in his sleep, soft snores falling from his parted lips and he looks so peaceful, sunlight hitting his smooth, still pale skin, making it glow in milky white.  
With a gentle finger I trace the outside of the large bruise I sucked to his neck the night before, grinning wildly at the memory. Last night was...is it too much to say perfect? I follow the path of my finger with my lips, peppering little kisses to the reddened skin. He tastes salty like the sea, both from sweat and the humidity in the air, a whiff of his cologne hitting my nose and as I press one last lingering kiss to his neck I feel him tighten his arms around me. I know he's awake even though his eyes are still closed, I can tell from the small, satisfied smile playing with the corners of his lips, but just like me he's too content to break the peaceful silence. So I cuddle back into him, snuggling closer and resting my head back on his chest, our skin tacky, glueing us together. And even though the air smells like the sea and the sheets are much thinner than the ones at home, and even though there's no annoying London traffic outside and the sun is shining brightly, as I lay here in his arms it feels like home away from home.  
* ** _end of flashback_** *

 

A bark from outside startles me out of my reverie, and I carefully put the wedding picture back down. Soon after that I hear the telltale sound of Ronnie's paws scratching against our front door, obviously eager to get in. Even though I know it's probably the smell of food I'd like to think that he's excited to see me. Probably not, but a man can dream can't he?  
Smiling widely I wipe my hands on a towel and move towards the door, pulling it open before Harry can. Not sparing me a glance Ronnie rushes past me into the kitchen where I filled his bowl with some meat from dinner, and I shrug resignedly.  
"Looks like he's not too excited to see me," I mumble dryly and blink up at Harry, who is standing in the doorway with a dopey grin on his beautiful face. He looks beyond adorable in his bright yellow wellies that I got him for his last birthday and a long raincoat, damp curls sticking to his face, raindrops dripping from his eyelashes, and my heart constricts painfully. Even after almost four wonderful years together I'm still not used to his beauty, and I don't think I will ever be.  
"I am though." he promises, and he sounds so sincere that I can't resist, I have to grab him by the lapels of his coat and pull him towards me until our lips meet and his hands wrap around my waist, pulling me even closer until all the space between us evaporates. I let him wrap me up in a tight embrace, not caring about getting wet. It doesn't matter that I saw him just this morning, it doesn't matter for how long - or short, in this case - we're apart, I always miss him and I'm always the happiest in his arms.  
"Good, you better be." I mumble when I pull away and lift my hand to brush his hair away from his face, running my fingers through the soft curls at the side of his head where they always curl the most.  
"I always am."

 

  
**{... the end ...}**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that's it. The end of Without You I'll Never Make It Out Alive. *cries* 
> 
> All I can say is thank you, again and again because you guys honestly blow my mind. 
> 
> __________
> 
> PS: If you're interested, I have just posted the first chapter of another Larry story that I am working on at the moment. It would mean the world to me if you could check it out. 
> 
> Anyway, I wish you all a lovely day/night wherever you are and I hope you're all well. You're the best. x


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